My son lives in Denver, Colorado and I talked with him in the beginning of December… He says, “Dad, it’s snowing here today and I don’t think it’s going to stop. The snow has been falling for the past few days and it is beautiful. I love the snow! The two best things about being snowed in are that I’m off until Friday and my son Tavian (my grandson) is here for Christmas.” I asked, are you going sledding? “Later, but let me tell you my Christmas story….”
Snow had fallen all over the neighborhood, hiding all the dirt and gloom of city life, everywhere it looked bright and brand new. The crystals of frost arranged themselves in the little crooks of the windowpanes building prisms of light capturing castles. It is cold, but not bitter and when the sun shines it can even be warm sitting in the windowsill. Tavian got excited when a bird came and sat on the outside sill looking in through the frosted pane of glass. It was a small bird, a Nuthatch, with a red breast, black cap, blue-gray upper parts and rust-brown underpants. He bobbed his head while listening to the Christmas music we were playing on the stereo. The cute little guy would peck at the glass, as if to knock on the door, rap rap. Rap rap rap.
The bird didn’t get scared when Tavian was at the window, but flew away as I approached the glass. Maybe the Nuthatch was hungry, the falling snow had hid all the food sources, but I didn’t have birdseed. I looked around the kitchen until I found some croutons, crunched them up into fine fare and put the bird cuisine out on the windowsill. Sure enough, the little Nuthatch came back and ate up the hard breadcrumbs.
The next morning, I heard little rapping on my window and when I looked there sat the Nuthatch bobbing his head, tap, tap, and tapping. I found my croutons, made a new batch of bird fare and placed it on the sill. After eating his fill the Nuthatch flew off leaving not a scrap.
On the third morning, the Nuthatch brought his wife and they both went to tapping on the glass. I am becoming quite a chef for the birds, doubled the batch of bird fare and my new fair weather friends ate my entire menu.
When the pair returned on the fourth day they brought a small round gold bell that appeared to be from an animal’s collar or part of a Christmas tree ornament and presented it to me on the sill. The pair waited patiently while I cooked up their vittles, enjoyed the fruits of my labor and flew away. I retrieved the small golden bell, repaired the string to it and nailed it to the casing on the side of the window.
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five golden rings… well, the Nuthatches rang the golden bell instead of tapping on the glass. We now enjoy our meals together and have become good friends. I think I’ll start calling them Mr. and Mrs. Claus. The future is bright and I’m hoping for great New Year.
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