In the spirit of lightening up, we invite you to join us in a making a quick scan of life and highlighting some of the things that stand out as being in some way special. Because our focus is on “loving earth” we’ll examine something that is a part of the natural world and our relationship to it. To begin, let’s pick a single day to consider. In fact, let’s choose a fairly ordinary time and see what stands out.

MORNING

In our day, morning starts early, around 4:30 am, as the summer sky lightens and the birds begin to make small noises. We go outside. The grass is wet with dew, the air refreshingly clear and cool after last night’s rain. We stand on the deck and look up the hill toward the labyrinth, catching the motion of an early rising phoebe among the wild cherries. The land is peaceful. There are no human sounds at this hour, just the birds, rustling leaves, and the land itself coming awake. It sings its own morning song. We can almost make out words as we listen, and the sound of a pipe… sweet, clear, just at the edge of our awareness, now fading as the light increases.

This is a peaceful place, a place of balance. We find it easy to merge with the land, allowing ourselves to become just another aspect of the hillside, the morning. We allow the edges of our body to soften and expand. We spread out and blend with air and plant. We are neither foreground nor background, just a part of the whole; breathing in and breathing out, breathing in and breathing out.

We walk up the hill to watch the sun come up, rising bright and hot above the oak and pine trees. With it comes a stronger definition of what is here. The soft edges of grass and leaf become sharper, clearer. A rabbit leaps off the path in front of us. As we watch, the early morning shifts to day.

DAY

Returning to the cabin, we discover a baby phoebe has fallen out of its nest, which is tucked under the eaves. It lies in a little crumpled heap on the deck, so small it is difficult to see which is head and which is tail. Its wing feathers have begun to develop but they are tiny, mere suggestions still. It doesn’t move. Both adult birds flutter about indecisively.

Yes, it is breathing, its little body is moving in and out very slightly.

After an hour or so, the little bird begins to perk up. Its head is now raised a bit. It opens its mouth. Without disturbing the adult birds, it is difficult for us to know if they are attempting to feed it and if so, to know if the baby is eating. Each time we look, however, baby appears more vital. Perhaps it has a chance.

We recently read an article suggesting that for a wild animal or bird, the stress of being handled directly after some other stressful event sometimes can be too much. For example, if a bird flies into a window and is lying on the ground stunned, provided there is no immediate danger to the bird, if possible it is best to wait a bit before removing it to a safe and quiet place to recover. So we are waiting.

But it appears we are about to have a mid-day rain shower. A wet baby bird will chill quickly. Such a thing will not increase its chances of survival. We get a ladder and line a plastic ice cream container with a soft towel. Approaching the baby from an angle that will prevent it from getting to the edge of the deck and possibly falling off, quickly we pick it up and put it in the container. It weighs nothing at all.

The ladder is old, meant for picking apples, twisted a little and not too steady. Three rungs are missing, but up we both go. The nest is tucked away under the eaves. Although, because it is above head level we cannot see into it, we feel other babies inside. Carefully, using just an index finger, we make a place for the fallen phoebe and slip it back into its rightful home. Done.

The rain now is coming down hard. We replace the ladder and clean out the plastic container.

AFTERNOON

Hours have passed. The rain has stopped. All the baby birds are still in the nest. The parent phoebes are bringing food regularly, their bills full, fuzzy around the edges with insects.

It appears this rescue will be successful and we feel immensely pleased; one little rescue, one live baby phoebe, one happy feeling that spreads outward to enfold all life.

Copyright Pat Foley, 2008

Pat Foley attempts to live a green/sustainable life just outside of Cornish, Maine. She is the owner of Earthrest, a retreat center offering space for groups and individuals. The underlying focus of Earthrest is following Gandhi’s advice to be the change we wish to see in the world. You may contact Pat at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or (207) 625-4179.