Today is a lovely day in my hometown. Sunny, temperature in the low 70’s. The sounds of the small town wilderness wafted around the backyard as I sat, reading quietly. Quite idyllic.
I was absorbed in my book, when two cardinals, Mr. Cardinal and Cardinal Junior, flitted down from the sky and perched on the fence not 15 feet away. The two chirruped back and forth for a while before Mr. Cardinal hopped down onto the back porch. I watched as he eyed a small patch of tall sunflowers, shooting glances at one that drooped and faced the ground. Bracing himself, he leaped up and hovered long enough to grasp a sunflower seed in his beak and wrench it away from the flower before landing again on the porch. Rather than eat the seed immediately he took flight, and alighting on the fence, proceeded to feed the prize to Cardinal Junior, whose mouth was opened wide in expectation.
It was one of those small miracles that nature grants to us on occasion. My book forgotten, I took in the spectacle as it was repeated several times. Then I found myself wishing I had my camera, to record the event for others to witness too. “Why is that?” I wondered. Why do I feel the need to capture this moment that has been given to me in high, yet imperfect definition? Continue reading “The Paradox of Selfish Moments”