A new crowd has arrived
in the neighborhood, who are enjoying a garden buffet.

These rare and even days of early Autumn, when daylight warms us easily, and nights, feel cozy, and when most of the summer flock has moved on to warmer climes, the forest has brought a new set of friends. I knew they were new, because they had to work out flying rules with each other. They had to figure out how to negotiate the voracious chipmunks, the feisty loud bluejay. And how to find waiting posts while I delivered the repast. They flutter in an out to avoid me and each other, but don't move too far away.

They perch on tall goldenrods, awaiting service, waiting for me to put their morning meal on the feeders, flying in quickly to snack, and then flitting off even faster with up and down flight patterns wishing to enjoy their meal elsewhere; they seem to prefer to eat and away, out in the open, and away from me and the feline predator. The newcomers consists of recently hatched chickadees, sparrows, robins, bluejays, cardinals, and at night, owls.

I sprinkle seeds in and on the different stations, keeping in mind the different birds' needs. After all, I offer the seeds for birds, but often other animals like the food as well. The arena includes chipmunks, raccoons, skunks, rabbits, the adorable opossum and occasionally a bear. Not every day, but often, I look out my door and see a four legged mingle with their not too distant winged kin, enjoying the feast.

I heard this quote from Humberto Maturana (as translated by P Cumplido,) "Love is giving space to the other, to allow other to have and be a presence." In the space of witnessing each other we have the encounter which allows the heart to grow and expand with love. I like thinking these guests are learning how to provide space.

Some of the newcomers may stay for winter, others, will stay only to enjoy the pleasant weather before winter winds chase them south. All appear to mingle freely, indeed they have learned how to fly with each other. A white-throated sparrow trills, a chickadee cavorts. General contentment flows in the garden buffet, where we rest to enjoy the sun, eat at the feeder of life and feel companionable with kin. There is vacationing vibe at the feeders this early October.

They have helped to ease the sadness of saying goodbye to many of the summer's residents; I find I am relishing this glowing season more quickly than usual. I think it is from the new friends who add to the joyful dance of leaves with their twitters and chirps.

I had another encounter, the other day, with winged kin, while driving north near Ottauquechee river. During this drive, I happened to glance up and saw a bird that immediately made me want to pull over and reach for my binoculars.

Surely, I thought, That, is an eagle. But who is with it?
And why is this bird dipping and dancing, showing its vulnerable undersides? Flashing their transitional white plumage in the Autumn sun? And is that indeed another eagle? I had stopped at a Gorge where I eventually counted and comprehended that 10 birds of various sizes and ages, were flying in a thermal mere feet above my head ~ circling, dipping and then rising again. They were lingering, not migrating, yet. Clearly enjoying a convergence of rivers, mountains, and winds. Here is where I experienced an encounter I will not forget. As I watched, this story unfolded ~

The one adolescent bald eagle turned into five, kettling over the gorge. And in this kettle, the raptors were dancing, playing actually, with five ravens, purposefully moving toward and then flipping over and under their smaller kin. Somersaulting and twirling into barrel rolls. Flying in and then away in graceful patterns. So large, I could never keep more than two birds in my view, and sometimes not even that. The ravens kept close by and joined in the dance as well they could.

Two of these birds stayed close and marked each other's moves in tandem. Moving in tandem as practiced good friends ~ dancing, cavorting, and twirling together.

Eventually, some of the ravens and eagles traveled on, and south. That is, the eagles traveled south. The ravens lowered into the valley, below sight. Before leaving, one of these pairs of ravens hovered so near to each other that the top one, could and did gently, carefully, lowered his wings, to brush the tips of the other.

And in a final gift, the last pair to leave the Gorge, was an eagle and a raven duo. They were flying so close to each other, in tandem, as the two ravens had just done, that they nearly touched. They flew with ease and presence. A gift of time and space. They continued south and on, beyond my field of vision. And though I could still imagine I heard the music, I no longer saw them.

Have you ever had the experience, where some thing, some music, some art, is so entirely beautiful that you spontaneously start weeping? I did, on the side of busy 91N highway. My heart was cracked open at the beauty of connection and encounter. I wished to share that encounter with you. To imagine our cousins spontaneously, peacefully, demonstrating love and co-existence. My heart ached with joy and beauty.

once again, these kin are my guides to living on this planet.

Thank you, for reading this post, for imagining this peace with me. Blessings to all of you, all who travel on finding one's warmth, and all who stay and dwell in the northern forests. Namaste, welcome home to your hearts.