What if birds were afraid of heights?
Looking out our kitchen windows on a sunny morning at the top of the tallest tree on the hill behind us I could see a bird perched on the tip-of-the-tip-of-the topmost branch. The tree swayed gently in the light breeze. The bird looked to one side, seeming to defy gravity. There was no sign of weight on the sprig where it perched. The bird was carefree, confident. He didn’t seem worried that the branch could bend with a gust of wind, that he could tumble unceremoniously down, to be quickly surrounded by neighborhood cats ready to pounce. Plus, he was really high up there. He’s a bird, so I guess that stuff doesn’t bother him. Should he be disturbed in any way, I am certain he would simply fly.
That’s when my fifty-year-old brain suddenly goes from pastoral wondering to randomly curious – what…
View original post 743 more words