See Nature's Power

“There’s a pileated and her baby at the suet!” Faster than you can say, “procrastinating writer,” I am skidding across the hardwood floor with binoculars in hand. From the kitchen window, I watch the large, ebony woodpecker with her regal, red crest take seed in her beak. She offers it to her young one, whose own crest is still fuzzy and crooked and new. It is riveting. It is glorious. And it is within steps of my back door.   I don’t live in the country. I live in a typical suburb next to a protected native growth area—a small, but lush, woodland and creek. It’s not much. Yet, I have discovered that it doesn’t have to be. A little nature seeps deeply into the soul. I can easily whittle away an hour watching a cedar waxling strip berries from a tree or a family of blue jays splashing in the birdbath. I’d like to pause to publicly apologize to Mr. Thoreau for falling asleep (more than once) while reading Walden Pond in college. What I am only now beginning to learn is that, to be truly understood and appreciated, nature cannot be confined to the page. It must be experienced. When we do this, when we explore for ourselves, we become aware of the fragility of our world—sometimes, brutally so. Because I have seen a thin coyote stumble out of the woods and a hungry bobcat size up my cat around lunchtime (my always-indoor kitty is not on nature’s menu), I cannot ignore habitat destruction. I am no longer removed from it. Living close to my sliver of nature has changed and challenged me.   A stunning black and yellow bird with a bright orange head recently stopped by my birdbath. I grabbed my field guide to discover that this tropical-looking beauty was a western tanager, a frequent visitor to Seattle as it migrates in the spring and fall. I was born and raised here. How had I never before seen this incredible creature? Guess I was too preoccupied with my own narrow life to pay attention. The tiny tanager, you, and I are all intertwined in this wild, exquisite world. Our fates are connected. Look for yourself. No, don’t look. See.