Stormbirds

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”
~ Leo Buscaglia

I heard a stormbird yesterday, just after dawn.

It’s so early in the season for stormbirds that I thought perhaps I was mistaken.

When I made my morning cup of tea, there he was, just outside. He raised his head in song. Rain began to fall and he valiantly continued his cry. I admired his dedication as the rest of the garden fell silent. Taking my mug of tea I crept back to the warmth of my bed and then fell asleep.

Mid-afternoon I woke and the stormbird was still calling mournfully from the teak tree outside my kitchen window, just where the garden turns to forest.

He sounded so, so sad.

I watched him from my kitchen sink as I washed my cup. His breast was thrust out determinedly. His dark feathers drooped a little with the misting rain. The weather was cold and miserable but he kept on calling. Occasionally he would go quiet, ruffle his feathers and shake himself, cock his head to one side and sit listening. When the sound went out of him and he sat in silence he seemed smaller somehow. More fragile.

When he began to call again he was tentative at first, as if he didn’t trust his own voice. Little by little he grew louder.

Eventually, he stopped completely. He cocked his head. Every part of him was intent on the listening. His eyes gleamed red. There was power in him. There was purpose.

I listened too.

And then I heard it. An answer.

Off he flew toward the sound.

My own heart swelled with love.