Kyork! Kyork! Kyork!
The sun was beginning to brighten the sky and I was sitting at my desk, trying to get into the rhythms of the day.
kyork! kyork! kyork!
The sound echoes. It sounds like a small cat or dog or some kind of mammal. And it sounds like it is coming from the closet space in front of me or under the desk. I look around, wondering how a wee beastie could have gotten in. I stand near the window and realize the kyork is coming from outside, thankfully. It is an odd sound… a sound that is deceptive, like it is coming from everywhere. I try to figure out where it is coming from. From the tree? From the driveway? Beneath me. I think it might be coming from the woodpile.
I step outside. The sound stops.
Chipmunk? No, that’s a high squeak. A hurt squirrel? Maybe… it’s not quite right. Jays are good mimics… but this doesn’t have the character of a jay. They are good mimics but not nearly as regular and steady as what I was hearing. A raven knocks in the distance, reminding me that odd sounds do come from birds.
I sit back at the desk and it starts again. I get up to look outside (understanding what is about is one of the key requirements of mountain hermitting I think). It seems like the sound is coming from the saplings or the woodpile behind them. Of course the fact I am wearing my glasses doesn’t help because my glasses don’t help me that much. I got them about twelve years ago when I last had eye insurance. Since then my eyes have, well, gotten a lot worse. I pay for contacts… but haven’t gotten around to paying for glasses which leaves me rather blurry eyed when I have them on. Certainly they are not good for seeing a creature who wishes to be heard but not seen.
A chickadee flies to the rail and I notice there is no seed out. So I oblige the request and pour some seed on the balcony rail and throw some out on the ground. I suspected what the sound might be, and seed on the ground was a way of finding out. Sure enough within a moment a plump bird with a tall plume and colors which seem painted on wandered out from beneath the saplings. It was a mountain quail and it was alone.
It stayed around a while, I got back to work. And so the day progressed from there, mostly consisting of my frustrations bubbling out followed by a restoration of understanding my calling… repeated through the day. I feel like some transition happened this past weekend, something which makes me feel different somehow, something which brings a new perspective to my eyes. Only I can’t explain it, or understand it. I just feel it, and all the world feels like it shifted, if only a fraction of a fraction of an inch. Maybe it’s nothing and it’s just a curious effect of the lingering sickness I’m feeling.
Still, it’s worth noting, and worth noting that I feel a profound hope and peace and a dawning light, despite no word from any quarter which would point me to such.
Such is faith, and the calling of those who have been called by God. At least I was able to figure out what was making that sound this morning.