Page 92 - Dark Matter:Women Witnessing Issue #3 - December 2015

Suddenly

This was the raucous morning world until a short while

ago, when instead of critters, uneasiness crept in.

Why so quiet? Why’s the feeder still so full? Is no one

thirsty?

I did a search and discovered—horrified—there’s an

avian epidemic in many locations across the country,

including Northern California. Salmonella. It is deadly

and contagious, especially to songbirds, especially

those who congregate at feeders, water bowls, and

baths where infected fecal matter can contaminate

food and water. With the best of intentions, have I

created a deadly environment? I remove everything:

the green bowl, the birdbath, the feeders.

And I wonder, can it happen just like this? Populations wiped out?

In my darker moments I have despaired for future children: will they hear birdsong in the morning air?

How many decades until skies are empty of birds? But it is now, not later, in my yard, on my street. I

walk my dog and peer everywhere – not a songbird to be seen. Will they return? When? For how

long?

I shudder and weep as I shed one more skin of innocence.

A Few Weeks Later

And still so quiet – no small fluttery movements in bushes.

No morning trills or liquid lullabies. Juncos, sparrows,

chickadees – so beautifully ordinary, so soothingly

numerous, and now not. Because they are not here, they are

with me all the time. Rarely have they been so near, so

dear. Death and absence bring the cherished inside as

constant companions.