I think it was a wren.
Yesterday, while standing in my utility room and looking out the window at a beautiful watermelon colored crepe myrtle by my window, I saw the most amazing thing. It was a little bird, smaller than some hummingbirds. I thought it was a wren but am not sure. It was so tiny. Its head was not as big as my thumb.
At one point, I know she saw me but she continued working as if I was nothing more than one of the insects for which she so diligently searched. She went from branch to branch, looking under leaves for just the right bug. This little bird was not much bigger than some of the wasps that continued to dive bomb her without her being one bit concerned. Her beautiful gray back sloped down to a dark line of feathers lining her wings at the tips all the way to the dark tail. Did I say she was beautiful?
While she worked, I stopped and started thinking. Oh, I know. I do too much thinking, don’t I? But I thought about the poisons that some people use to kill bugs and how that would affect this beautiful creature of God. How she wouldn’t be able to slough it off. As you well know, I try to do everything organically but sometimes I do use a little poison for certain bugs. And the thought of her dying from something so seemingly benign as to just look for bugs really got to me. I don’t know if I could stand to think that I harmed her in any way.