Whenever the living creatures give glory and honor and thanks to Him who sits on the throne, who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before Him who sits on the throne and worship Him who lives forever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying: “You are worthy, O Lord, To receive glory and honor and power; For You created all things, And by Your will they exist and were created.” (Revelation 4:9-11 NKJV)
There really aren’t any birds named Easter or Cross, so I decided to continue on through the Passerine Order. Actually, some of the birds in one of these families are the “Thornbills” and that is appropriate. Enjoy the Lord Creator’s avian Creations as you listen to the words and realize just how Worthy He is of our praise and honor. Happy Easter!
And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; And hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; Saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. (Revelation 5:9-12 KJV)
Once there was a crow named Albert who would come to the front yard of a young girl’s house with other crows every day. They came daily because the girl would wait for the crows and feed them bread. This went on every day until the crows decided to bring her a gift in return for the bread.
One by one the crows started bringing little gifts for the girl. One crow found a nickel in a gutter, another found two paperclips by the side of the road, and a third found a shiny gum wrapper by a trashcan.
Albert wanted to bring something to the girl who was very special. Every day after the girl fed all the crows their bread, Albert would start his search. It couldn’t be just anything.
Albert didn’t know it, but a few days before, the girl’s father had been driving down a rough and bumpy road. The girl’s father worked at a construction company so all of his tools were in a toolbox in the passenger seat. The window had been open when the girl’s father went down the rough road so the screwdriver had fallen out the window after the truck had hit a small hole.
Crow
Albert had been flying past that road when he noticed something shiny. Swooping down, Albert found the screwdriver and decided to bring it back to the girl.
It took a while for Albert to get the screwdriver in his beak to carry because it was very heavy, but Albert eventually was able to fly off the ground a few feet.
It took even longer to get back to the girl’s house, but when Albert flew to the front yard, the girl walked out to find Albert sitting there with the screwdriver next to him. The girl and her father were happy to see the screwdriver because the girl’s father had been looking for it and he needed it for construction. It was the only screwdriver that he owned.
From then on, the girl was sure to give Albert an extra big crumb of bread whenever he came to her front yard.
The End
And when she has found it, she calls her friends and neighbors together, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the piece which I lost!’
(Luke 15:9 NKJV)
Another fine tale from our developing young writer, Emma. Thanks again, Emma. We can all learn from caring about other, even when it quite a struggle to help.
He sends the springs into the valleys; They flow among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field; The wild donkeys quench their thirst. By them the birds of the heavens have their home; They sing among the branches. He waters the hills from His upper chambers; The earth is satisfied with the fruit of Your works. (Psalms 104:10-13 NKJV)
Thought you just might enjoy a little song and restfulness from Our Creator.
Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 NKJV)
Bridled Honeyeater (Lichenostomus frenatus) by Ian
How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth! (Psalms 119:103 KJV)
The Meliphagidae – Honeyeaters are another of our beautifully created birds in the Passerine Order to highlight. Thought about changing the sequence because of Palm Sunday, but did Palm Birds previously with Lisa Brock singing from an Easter Musical. The Words of Christ that tell of this week, and they are sweeter than honey to those of us who have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as our Savior.
The Lord did not have to stay on the cross, but because of His Love for us, he stayed there and paid the penalty for our sins. He offers us the gift of Salvation, but we have to admit and acknowledge our sinful condition, and accept that gift. Honey is a gift from the Lord for the Honeyeaters, and they could stand and look at it all day, but they need to partake of it to do them any good. Taste comes when they accept it.
And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. (John 3:14-19 KJV)
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“Blood of Jesus Medley” ~ Faith Baptist Church Choir
And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful. (Colossians 3:15 NKJV)
Thank you for all your prayers and thoughts. I never dreamed that when I went to the hospital last Thursday, 19th, that they would keep me a week.
Finally got released last evening. This was the worst case of bronchitis I have had to deal with. Was on oxygen the whole week. Many of you were praying for me and those prayers were felt. Our Lord is great.
Not only did I get “rest,” (who rest in the hospital?) but multiple opportunities came available to encourage others around me. We were originally suppose be at a Bible Conference this week in South Carolina, but had decided to stay home and watch some of it on Livestream. With Hospital internet and electronic gadgets, I saw more of the conference than if we had driven up. The Lord knew ahead of time all about what would happen here.
Did get in a few bird sighting out my window. Fish Crows, Ospreys and a Mockingbird flew by to make part of my day.
Will try to get some articles rolling again. Had two waiting to be worked up before I went to hospital, but just didn’t feel up to doing them. Will get Ian’s Bird of the Week out soon and have one waiting from James J S Johnson.
Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers. I still have more healing to do, but way on the mend.
Just an upstate. Was admitted to the hospital yesterday and they are going to keep me a few more days. The bronchitis is sever, but praise the Lord there is no pneumonia!
Thanks for those who have prayed for me, because they were felt, Especially when multiple needle attempts were made. I stayed calm while they made them.
Will be a few days with no blogs as sending from IPad not as easy, harder to do with photos. Please keep me in you prayers and thanks in advance.
(Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer; (Romans 12:12)
Having other things to attend to, or rather having other things to arouse his curiosity, Peter Rabbit did not visit the Old Orchard for several days. When he did it was to find the entire neighborhood quite upset. There was an indignation meeting in progress in and around the tree in which Chebec and his modest little wife had their home. How the tongues did clatter! Peter knew that something had happened, but though he listened with all his might he couldn’t make head or tail of it.
Finally Peter managed to get the attention of Jenny Wren. “What’s happened?” demanded Peter. “What’s all this fuss about?”
Jenny Wren was so excited that she couldn’t keep still an instant. Her sharp little eyes snapped and her tail was carried higher than ever. “It’s a disgrace! It’s a disgrace to the whole feathered race, and something ought to be done about it!” sputtered Jenny. “I’m ashamed to think that such a contemptible creature wears feathers! I am so!”
“But what’s it all about?” demanded Peter impatiently. “Do keep still long enough to tell me. Who is this contemptible creature?”
“Sally Sly,” snapped Jenny Wren. “Sally Sly the Cowbird. I hoped she wouldn’t disgrace the Old Orchard this year, but she has. When Mr. and Mrs. Chebec returned from getting their breakfast this morning they found one of Sally Sly’s eggs in their nest. They are terribly upset, and I don’t blame them. If I were in their place I simply would throw that egg out. That’s what I’d do, I’d throw that egg out!”
Peter was puzzled. He blinked his eyes and stroked his whiskers as he tried to understand what it all meant. “Who is Sally Sly, and what did she do that for?” he finally ventured.
“For goodness’ sake, Peter Rabbit, do you mean to tell me you don’t know who Sally Sly is?” Then without waiting for Peter to reply, Jenny rattled on. “She’s a member of the Blackbird family and she’s the laziest, most good-for-nothing, sneakiest, most unfeeling and most selfish wretch I know of!” Jenny paused long enough to get her breath. “She laid that egg in Chebec’s nest because she is too lazy to build a nest of her own and too selfish to take care of her own children. Do you know what will happen, Peter Rabbit? Do you know what will happen?”
A Shiny Cowbird (Molothrus bonariensis) chick being fed by a Rufous-collared Sparrow (Zonotrichia Capensis)
Peter shook his head and confessed that he didn’t. “When that egg hatches out, that young Cowbird will be about twice as big as Chebec’s own children,” sputtered Jenny. “He’ll be so big that he’ll get most of the food. He’ll just rob those little Chebecs in spite of all their mother and father can do. And Chebec and his wife will be just soft-hearted enough to work themselves to skin and bone to feed the young wretch because he is an orphan and hasn’t anybody to look after him. The worst of it is, Sally Sly is likely to play the same trick on others. She always chooses the nest of some one smaller than herself. She’s terribly sly. No one has seen her about. She just sneaked into the Old Orchard this morning when everybody was busy, laid that egg and sneaked out again.”
“Did you say that she is a member of the Blackbird family?” asked Peter.
Jenny Wren nodded vigorously. “That’s what she is,” said she. “Thank goodness, she isn’t a member of MY family. If she were I never would be able to hold my head up. Just listen to Goldy the Oriole over in that big elm. I don’t see how he can sing like that, knowing that one of his relatives has just done such a shameful deed. It’s a wierd thing that there can be two members of the same family so unlike. Mrs. Goldy builds one of the most wonderful nests of any one I know, and Sally Sly is too lazy to build any. If I were in Goldy’s place I—”
“Hold on!” cried Peter. “I thought you said Sally Sly is a member of the Blackbird family. I don’t see what she’s got to do with Goldy the Oriole.”
“You don’t, eh?” exclaimed Jenny. “Well, for one who pokes into other people’s affairs as you do, you don’t know much. The Orioles and the MeadowLarks and the Grackles and the Bobolinks all belong to the Blackbird family. They’re all related to Redwing the Blackbird, and Sally Sly the Cowbird belongs in the same family.”
Peter gasped. “I—I—hadn’t the least idea that any of these folks were related,” stammered Peter.
“Well, they are,” retorted Jenny Wren. “As I live, there’s Sally Sly now!”
Peter caught a glimpse of a brownish-gray bird who reminded him somewhat of Mrs. Redwing. She was about the same size and looked very much like her. It was plain that she was trying to keep out of sight, and the instant she knew that she had been discovered she flew away in the direction of the Old Pasture. It happened that late that afternoon Peter visited the Old Pasture and saw her again. She and some of her friends were busily walking about close to the feet of the cows, where they seemed to be picking up food. One had a brown head, neck and breast; the rest of his coat was glossy black. Peter rightly guessed that this must be Mr. Cowbird. Seeing them on such good terms with the cows he understood why they are called Cowbirds.
Sure that Sally Sly had left the Old Orchard, the feathered folks settled down to their personal affairs and household cares, Jenny Wren among them. Having no one to talk to, Peter found a shady place close to the old stone wall and there sat down to think over the surprising things he had learned. Presently Goldy the Baltimore Oriole alighted in the nearest apple-tree, and it seemed to Peter that never had he seen any one more beautifully dressed. His head, neck, throat and upper part of his back were black. The lower part of his back and his breast were a beautiful deep orange color. There was a dash of orange on his shoulders, but the rest of his wings were black with an edging of white. His tail was black and orange. Peter had heard him called the Firebird, and now he understood why. His song was quite as rich and beautiful as his coat.
Shortly he was joined by Mrs. Goldy. Compared with her handsome husband she was very modestly dressed. She wore more brown than black, and where the orange color appeared it was rather dull. She wasted no time in singing. Almost instantly her sharp eyes spied a piece of string caught in the bushes almost over Peter’s head. With a little cry of delight she flew down and seized it. But the string was caught, and though she tugged and pulled with all her might she couldn’t get it free. Goldy saw the trouble she was having and cutting his song short, flew down to help her. Together they pulled and tugged and tugged and pulled, until they had to stop to rest and get their breath.
“We simply must have this piece of string,” said Mrs. Goldy. “I’ve been hunting everywhere for a piece, and this is the first I’ve found. It is just what we need to bind our nest fast to the twigs. With this I won’t have the least bit of fear that that nest will ever tear loose, no matter how hard the wind blows.”
Once more they tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged until at last they got it free, and Mrs. Goldy flew away in triumph with the string in her bill. Goldy himself followed. Peter watched them fly to the top of a long, swaying branch of a big elm-tree up near Farmer Brown’s house. He could see something which looked like a bag hanging there, and he knew that this must be the nest.
“Gracious!” said Peter. “They must get terribly tossed about when the wind blows. I should think their babies would be thrown out.”
“Don’t you worry about them,” said a voice.
Peter looked up to find Welcome Robin just over him. “Mrs. Goldy makes one of the most wonderful nests I know of,” continued Welcome Robin. “It is like a deep pocket made of grass, string, hair and bark, all woven together like a piece of cloth. It is so deep that it is quite safe for the babies, and they seem to enjoy being rocked by the wind. I shouldn’t care for it myself because I like a solid foundation for my home, but the Goldies like it. It looks dangerous but it really is one of the safest nests I know of. Snakes and cats never get ‘way up there and there are few feathered nest-robbers who can get at those eggs so deep down in the nest. Goldy is sometimes called Golden Robin. He isn’t a Robin at all, but I would feel very proud if he were a member of my family. He’s just as useful as he is handsome, and that’s saying a great deal. He just dotes on caterpillars. There’s Mrs. Robin calling me. Good-by, Peter.”
With this Welcome Robin flew away and Peter once more settled himself to think over all he had learned.
*
Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need. (Ephesians 4:28 NKJV)
That is an interesting verse. Did Sally Sly “steal” another bird’s nest? Could she have made her own nest, raise her own chicks and feed them? Sure she could have and many of the Cowbirds do. But there are a few that sneak around and place eggs in other nests.
Are we suppose to steal answers from someone else’s paper? No, we are supposed to study and write our own answers.
*
Why were all the birds upset?
What kind of bird caused the problem?
What Family of birds does it belong to?
What other birds belong to that bird family?
Was Sally Sly being kind?
Eph 4:32 And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.
Wow! Has it now been seven years since I started writing the Birds of the Bible articles? February 2008 is the original beginning month of the blog. It was started using Blogspot, but moved here to WordPress in July of that year. If you take a look at the articles below you will see how the Lord has been blessing over these years.
Today with almost 1.3 million visits (with WordPress), over 1,100 followers and 216 Flags of countries that you have visited from, I am amazed. Here is a quote from the 1st Anniversary blog:
Our pastor just reminded us of a quote by William Carey, an English Missionary to India:
Expect great things from God, attempt great things for God.
I am not sure this was attempted as a “great thing,” but it was attempted to honor the Lord. That is a very great thing, and God has turned that attempt into a blog that has been visited over 10,000 times just since July. Many of those visits have come from around the world. Thank all of you for your visits.
Carey also said, “If I begin a thing I must go through with it!” This blog has been started and we trust we will continue to keep writing about God’s wonderful creation, especially His birds, and the joy of observing all God’s marvelous handiwork.
Because of this blog many you have become great friends that most we have never met personally, and you are from around the world, where Dan and I will never visit. Yet many of you will be sharing eternity with us and we will meet as we share the presence of Our Saviour. What a thought!
Thanks to the many writers that have added greatly to the blog; Ian, Dottie, Emma, Golden Eagle (Baron), James J S Johnson, Stephen, and others.
Thank you for your visits! Thank you for your friendships! Especially THANK YOU LORD!
I would like to use Paul’s words to express my feelings:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine making request for you all with joy, for your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ; (Philippians 1:2-6 NKJV)
Yes, I do pray for many of you even by name. I especially pray for those of you who do not know the peace of knowing my Savior and the Creator of these fantastic birds.
Some of the previous articles about the anniversaries:
Is it a Downy or Hairy Woodpecker? Brevard Zoo by Dan
Drummers and Carpenters
The Downy, Hairy and Red-headed Woodpeckers.
The Burgess Bird Book For Children
*
Listen to the story read.
CHAPTER 11. Drummers and Carpenters.
Peter Rabbit was so full of questions that he hardly knew which one to ask first. But Yellow Wing the Flicker didn’t give him a chance to ask any. From the edge of the Green forest there came a clear, loud call of, “Pe-ok! Pe-ok! Pe-ok!”
“Excuse me, Peter, there’s Mrs. Yellow Wing calling me,” exclaimed Yellow Wing, and away he went. Peter noticed that as he flew he went up and down. It seemed very much as if he bounded through the air just as Peter bounds over the ground. “I would know him by the way he flies just as far as I could see him,” thought Peter, as he started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. “Somehow he doesn’t seem like a Woodpecker because he is on the ground so much. I must ask Jenny Wren about him.”
It was two or three days before Peter had a chance for a bit of gossip with Jenny Wren. When he did the first thing he asked was if Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker.
“Certainly he is,” replied Jenny Wren. “Of course he is. Why under the sun should you think he isn’t?”
“Because it seems to me he is on the ground more than he’s in the trees,” retorted Peter. “I don’t know any other Woodpeckers who come down on the ground at all.”
“Tut, tut, tut, tut!” scolded Jenny. “Think a minute, Peter! Think a minute! Haven’t you ever seen Redhead on the ground?”
Peter blinked his eyes. “Ye-e-s,” he said slowly. “Come to think of it, I have. I’ve seen him picking up beechnuts in the fall. The Woodpeckers are a funny family. I don’t understand them.”
Just then a long, rolling rat-a-tat-tat rang out just over their heads. “There’s another one of them,” chuckled Jenny. “That’s Downy, the smallest of the whole family. He certainly makes an awful racket for such a little fellow. He is a splendid drummer and he’s just as good a carpenter. He made the very house I am occupying now.”
Peter was sitting with his head tipped back trying to see Downy. At first he couldn’t make him out. Then he caught a little movement on top of a dead limb. It was Downy’s head flying back and forth as he beat his long roll. He was dressed all in black and white. On the back of his head was a little scarlet patch. He was making a tremendous racket for such a little chap, only a little bigger than one of the Sparrow family.
“Is he making a hole for a nest up there?” asked Peter eagerly.
“Gracious, Peter, what a question! What a perfectly silly question!” exclaimed Jenny Wren scornfully. “Do give us birds credit for a little common sense. If he were cutting a hole for a nest, everybody within hearing would know just where to look for it. Downy has too much sense in that little head of his to do such a silly thing as that. When he cuts a hole for a nest he doesn’t make any more noise than is absolutely necessary. You don’t see any chips flying, do you?”
“No-o,” replied Peter slowly. “Now you speak of it, I don’t. Is—is he hunting for worms in the wood?”
Jenny laughed right out. “Hardly, Peter, hardly,” said she. “He’s just drumming, that’s all. That hollow limb makes the best kind of a drum and Downy is making the most of it. Just listen to that! There isn’t a better drummer anywhere.”
But Peter wasn’t satisfied. Finally he ventured another question. “What’s he doing it for?”
“Good land, Peter!” cried Jenny. “What do you run and jump for in the spring? What is Mr. Wren singing for over there? Downy is drumming for precisely the same reason—happiness. He can’t run and jump and he can’t sing, but he can drum. By the way, do you know that Downy is one of the most useful birds in the Old Orchard?”
Just then Downy flew away, but hardly had he disappeared when another drummer took his place. At first Peter thought Downy had returned until he noticed that the newcomer was just a bit bigger than Downy. Jenny Wren’s sharp eyes spied him at once.
“Hello!” she exclaimed. “There’s Hairy. Did you ever see two cousins look more alike? If it were not that Hairy is bigger than Downy it would be hard work to tell them apart. Do you see any other difference, Peter?”
Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens) by Raymond Barlow
Peter stared and blinked and stared again, then slowly shook his head. “No,” he confessed, “I don’t.”
“That shows you haven’t learned to use your eyes, Peter,” said Jenny rather sharply. “Look at the outside feathers of his tail; they are all white. Downy’s outside tail feathers have little bars of black. Hairy is just as good a carpenter as is Downy, but for that matter I don’t know of a member of the Woodpecker family who isn’t a good carpenter. Where did you say Yellow Wing the Flicker is making his home this year?”
“Over in the Big Hickory-tree by the Smiling Pool,” replied Peter. “I don’t understand yet why Yellow Wing spends so much time on the ground.”
“Ants,” replied Jenny Wren. “Just ants. He’s as fond of ants as is Old Mr. Toad, and that is saying a great deal. If Yellow Wing keeps on he’ll become a ground bird instead of a tree bird. He gets more than half his living on the ground now. Speaking of drumming, did you ever hear Yellow Wing drum on a tin roof?”
Peter shook his head.
“Well, if there’s a tin roof anywhere around, and Yellow Wing can find it, he will be perfectly happy. He certainly does love to make a noise, and tin makes the finest kind of a drum.”
Just then Jenny was interrupted by the arrival, on the trunk of the very next tree to the one on which she was sitting, of a bird about the size of Sammy Jay. His whole head and neck were a beautiful, deep red. His breast was pure white, and his back was black to nearly the beginning of his tail, where it was white.
“Hello, Redhead!” exclaimed Jenny Wren. “How did you know we were talking about your family?”
“Hello, chatterbox,” retorted Redhead with a twinkle in his eyes. “I didn’t know you were talking about my family, but I could have guessed that you were talking about some one’s family. Does your tongue ever stop, Jenny?”
Jenny Wren started to become indignant and scold, then thought better of it. “I was talking for Peter’s benefit,” said she, trying to look dignified, a thing quite impossible for any member of the Wren family to do. “Peter has always had the idea that true Woodpeckers never go down on the ground. I was explaining to him that Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker, yet spends half his time on the ground.”
Redhead nodded. “It’s all on account of ants,” said he. “I don’t know of any one quite so fond of ants unless it is Old Mr. Toad. I like a few of them myself, but Yellow Wing just about lives on them when he can. You may have noticed that I go down on the ground myself once in a while. I am rather fond of beetles, and an occasional grasshopper tastes very good to me. I like a variety. Yes, sir, I certainly do like a variety—cherries, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, grapes. In fact most kinds of fruit taste good to me, not to mention beechnuts and acorns when there is no fruit.”
Jenny Wren tossed her head. “You didn’t mention the eggs of some of your neighbors,” said she sharply.
Redhead did his best to look innocent, but Peter noticed that he gave a guilty start and very abruptly changed the subject, and a moment later flew away.
“Is it true,” asked Peter, “that Redhead does such a dreadful thing?”
Jenny bobbed her head rapidly and jerked her tail. “So I am told,” said she. “I’ve never seen him do it, but I know others who have. They say he is no better than Sammy Jay or Blacky the Crow. But gracious, goodness! I can’t sit here gossiping forever.” Jenny twitched her funny little tail, snapped her bright eyes at Peter, and disappeared in her house.
Bold points for questions at the bottom or for Christian traits.
*
For thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands: happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee. (or your beak) (Psalms 128:2 KJV)
He that handleth a matter wisely shall find good: and whoso trusteth in the LORD, happy is he. (Proverbs 16:20 KJV)
Seems like these woodpeckers enjoy doing what that is a sign they are happy?
Who are the four members of the Woodpecker family mentioned?
How does a Woodpecker fly?
Which is the smallest member of the family?
Can you describe him?
Which Woodpecker is just a little bit larger?
What about its tail?
Which one likes to eat on the ground half the time?
Grey-headed Canary-Flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis) by W Kwong
In today’s Creation Moments article, A WONDROUS BUT TERRIFYING CREATION, these quotes from C. S. Lewis caught my interest. The article is actually about Louie Zamperini’s experiences, especially with nature.
C.S. Lewis writes about how our experience with the creation awakens within us a sense that there is more – something other, something beyond the natural world. He writes in Mere Christianity, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
Lewis also observes in his book Miracles that we can only savor this world for the wonder that it really is when we appreciate it as the creation of a supernatural God. “Only Super-naturalists really see Nature…. To treat Nature as God, or as Everything, is to lose the whole pith and pleasure of her. Come out, look back and then you will see … this astonishing cataract of bears, babies, and bananas; this immoderate deluge of atoms, orchids, oranges, cancers, canaries, fleas, gases, tornadoes, and toads. How could you have ever thought this was ultimate reality? … The “vanity” (futility) to which she was subjected was her disease not her essence.”
Like all of us, Nature – though wondrous and awesome – is in need of redemption. The “essence” of Nature points us to her Awesome Maker. And the “disease” within her – the futility, corruption, and harsh cruelty – instructs us to anxiously long for our full redemption. As the Bible puts it,
“…the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creature (the anxious longing of the creation) waits for the manifestation of the sons of God…. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.” (Romans 8:18-19, 22)
Like yesterday’s I’m Little but…., the hawk would not be trying to catch and eat the squirrel had it not been for the curse and our fallen world. It will be great when things are made right. The main question is, are you prepared for when that takes place?
The Red-winged Blackbird and the Golden-winged Flicker.
The Burgess Bird Book For Children
*
CHAPTER 10. Redwing and Yellow Wing.
Listen to the story read.
Peter had come over to the Smiling Pool especially to pay his respects to Redwing the Blackbird, so as soon as he could, without being impolite, he left Mrs. Teeter sitting on her eggs, and Teeter himself bobbing and bowing in the friendliest way, and hurried over to where the bulrushes grow. In the very top of the Big Hickory-tree, a little farther along on the bank of the Smiling Pool, sat some one who at that distance appeared to be dressed all in black. He was singing as if there were nothing but joy in all the great world. “Quong-ka-reee! Quong-ka-reee! Quong-ka-reee!” he sang. Peter would have known from this song alone that it was Redwing the Blackbird, for there is no other song quite like it.
As soon as Peter appeared in sight Redwing left his high perch and flew down to light among the broken-down bulrushes. As he flew, Peter saw the beautiful red patch on the bend of each wing, from which Redwing gets his name. “No one could ever mistake him for anybody else,” thought Peter, “For there isn’t anybody else with such beautiful shoulder patches.”
“What’s the news, Peter Rabbit?” cried Redwing, coming over to sit very near Peter.
“There isn’t much,” replied Peter, “excepting that Teeter the Sandpiper has four eggs just a little way from here.”
Redwing chuckled. “That is no news, Peter,” said he. “Do you suppose that I live neighbor to Teeter and don’t know where his nest is and all about his affairs? There isn’t much going on around the Smiling Pool that I don’t know, I can tell you that.”
Peter looked a little disappointed, because there is nothing he likes better than to be the bearer of news. “I suppose,” said he politely, “that you will be building a nest pretty soon yourself, Redwing.”
Redwing chuckled softly. It was a happy, contented sort of chuckle. “No, Peter,” said he. “I am not going to build a nest.”
“What?” exclaimed Peter, and his two long ears stood straight up with astonishment.
“No,” replied Redwing, still chuckling. “I’m not going to build a nest, and if you want to know a little secret, we have four as pretty eggs as ever were laid.”
Peter fairly bubbled over with interest and curiosity. “How splendid!” he cried. “Where is your nest, Redwing? I would just love to see it. I suppose it is because she is sitting on those eggs that I haven’t seen Mrs. Redwing. It was very stupid of me not to guess that folks who come as early as you do would be among the first to build a home. Where is it, Redwing? Do tell me.”
Redwing’s eyes twinkled.
"A secret which is known by three
Full soon will not a secret be,"
said he. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you, Peter. I know that you wouldn’t intentionally let my secret slip out. But you might do it by accident. What you don’t know, you can’t tell.”
“That’s right, Redwing. I am glad you have so much sense,” said another voice, and Mrs. Redwing alighted very near to Redwing.
Peter couldn’t help thinking that Old Mother Nature had been very unfair indeed in dressing Mrs. Redwing. She was, if anything, a little bit smaller than her handsome husband, and such a plain, not to say homely, little body that it was hard work to realize that she was a Blackbird at all. In the first place she wasn’t black. She was dressed all over in grayish-brown with streaks of darker brown which in places were almost black. She wore no bright-colored shoulder patches. In fact, there wasn’t a bright feather on her anywhere. Peter wanted to ask why it was that she was so plainly dressed, but he was too polite and decided to wait until he should see Jenny Wren. She would be sure to know. Instead, he exclaimed, “How do you do, Mrs. Redwing? I’m ever so glad to see you. I was wondering where you were. Where did you come from?”
“Straight from my home,” replied Mrs. Redwing demurely. “And if I do say it, it is the best home we’ve ever had.”
Redwing chuckled. He was full of chuckles. You see, he had noticed how eagerly Peter was looking everywhere.
“This much I will tell you, Peter,” said Redwing; “our nest is somewhere in these bulrushes, and if you can find it we won’t say a word, even if you don’t keep the secret.”
Then Redwing chuckled again and Mrs. Redwing chuckled with him. You see, they knew that Peter doesn’t like water, and that nest was hidden in a certain clump of brown, broken-down rushes, with water all around. Suddenly Redwing flew up in the air with a harsh cry. “Run, Peter! Run!” he screamed. “Here comes Reddy Fox!”
Peter didn’t wait for a second warning. He knew by the sound of Redwing’s voice that Redwing wasn’t joking. There was just one place of safety, and that was an old hole of Grandfather Chuck’s between the roots of the Big Hickory-tree. Peter didn’t waste any time getting there, and he was none too soon, for Reddy was so close at his heels that he pulled some white hairs out of Peter’s tail as Peter plunged headfirst down that hole. It was a lucky thing for Peter that that hole was too small for Reddy to follow and the roots prevented Reddy from digging it any bigger.
For a long time Peter sat in Grandfather Chuck’s old house, wondering how soon it would be safe for him to come out. For a while he heard Mr. and Mrs. Redwing scolding sharply, and by this he knew that Reddy Fox was still about. By and by they stopped scolding, and a few minutes later he heard Redwing’s happy song. “That means,” thought Peter, “that Reddy Fox has gone away, but I think I’ll sit here a while longer to make sure.”
Now Peter was sitting right under the Big Hickory-tree. After a while he began to hear faint little sounds, little taps, and scratching sounds as of claws. They seemed to come from right over his head, but he knew that there was no one in that hole but himself. He couldn’t understand it at all.
Finally Peter decided it would be safe to peek outside. Very carefully he poked his head out. Just as he did so, a little chip struck him right on the nose. Peter pulled his head back hurriedly and stared at the little chip which lay just in front of the hole. Then two or three more little chips fell. Peter knew that they must come from up in the Big Hickory-tree, and right away his curiosity was aroused. Redwing was singing so happily that Peter felt sure no danger was near, so he hopped outside and looked up to find out where those little chips had come from. Just a few feet above his head he saw a round hole in the trunk of the Big Hickory-tree. While he was looking at it, a head with a long stout bill was thrust out and in that bill were two or three little chips. Peter’s heart gave a little jump of glad surprise.
“Yellow Wing!” he cried. “My goodness, how you startled me!”
The chips were dropped and the head was thrust farther out. The sides and throat were a soft reddish-tan and on each side at the beginning of the bill was a black patch. The top of the head was gray and just at the back was a little band of bright red. There was no mistaking that head. It belonged to Yellow Wing the Flicker beyond a doubt.
“Hello, Peter!” exclaimed Yellow Wing, his eyes twinkling. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing,” replied Peter, “but I want to know what you are doing. What are all those chips?”
“I’m fixing up this old house of mine,” replied Yellow Wing promptly. “It wasn’t quite deep enough to suit me, so I am making it a little deeper. Mrs. Yellow Wing and I haven’t been able to find another house to suit us, so we have decided to live here again this year.” He came wholly out and flew down on the ground near Peter. When his wings were spread, Peter saw that on the under sides they were a beautiful golden-yellow, as were the under sides of his tail feathers. Around his throat was a broad, black collar. From this, clear to his tail, were black dots. When his wings were spread, the upper part of his body just above the tail was pure white.
“My,” exclaimed Peter, “you are a handsome fellow! I never realized before how handsome you are.”
Yellow Wing looked pleased. Perhaps he felt a little flattered. “I am glad you think so, Peter,” said he. “I am rather proud of my suit, myself. I don’t know of any member of my family with whom I would change coats.”
A sudden thought struck Peter. “What family do you belong to?” He asked abruptly.
“The Woodpecker family,” replied Yellow Wing proudly.
*
Nevertheless if you warn the righteous man that the righteous should not sin, and he does not sin, he shall surely live because he took warning; also you will have delivered your soul.” (Ezekiel 3:21 NKJV)
I do not write these things to shame you, but as my beloved children I warn you. (1 Corinthians 4:14 NKJV)
That was mighty nice of Redwing to warn Peter Rabbit. We need to listen when others warn us. Like, “don’t get too close to the fire” or “watch out for the cars!” We should also help others by warning them so they don’t get hurt. We need to tell others about Christ and warn them to not ignore His teaching.
“keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. (Jude 1:21 NKJV)
“looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2 NKJV)
Last Sunday, our Music Director of 31 years “semi” retired. The music all day was fantastic, even more so than normal. So with new music to use for the blog, today’s selection, “Big Mighty God” caused me to start formulating this blog while they were still singing it.
We do have a Big Mighty Creator that has formed all these gorgeous and not so gorgeous birds. In His wisdom, each avian creation was given just what they need to provide for themselves, find a mate, raise new generations, and sing and just be there for us to enjoy.
As you listen and watch the birds (and a few friends), I trust you realize that the Lord Jesus Christ, the Creator, has provided just as well and even better for you.
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“Big Mighty God” – 3+1 – Pastor Jerry, Reagan Osborne, Caleb & Jessie Padgett (Reagan flew in from Calif. for the special day)
Lee's Birdwatching Adventures Plus 