Early memories that stick in our minds are significant. They stay with us for a reason. Perhaps for us to remember them fondly or maybe they are glimpses of what our future holds for us.
I often have flashbacks from childhood of things I enjoyed doing and to this day I still do. Growing up London I loved going to parks and other green spaces where I could look at trees and lakes. I would collect leaves and grasses and paste them lovingly into a scrap book where I would catalog them along with descriptions.
My other fascination was with birds. Seeing a small red-breasted Robin at Christmas time, especially if it snowed, was thrilling to me. I also remember the excitement of going to Trafalgar Square as a child with my mother. She would buy these little containers of corn from vendors so we could feed the pigeons. The sheer joy of having them land on your shoulders, sometimes your head, and feed directly from your hand was exciting to a child.
Birds fascinate me and I admire them for their strength and resilience. It’s amazing that something that doesn’t weigh much to begin with has the stamina to fly such long distances. A migratory bird, for instance, can fly for miles and miles without stopping.
Macaws can live until they are 75 years old or more and an African Grey can actually have a conversation with you.
The gentle hoot of an Owl, the cooing of Mourning Doves or the cacophony of Sandhill Cranes is like music to my ears, but when it comes to birdsong, I love the beautiful sounds of the Mockingbird. Each day one will perch atop my chimney and sing its heart out. The different sounds he makes are so melodious you just have to stop and smile up at him.