About three thousand people were added to the family on that day! This newly formed family continued daily to learn from the twelve message bearers. They lived together in harmony, ate ceremonial meals, and prayed with one another. ~Acts 2:41-42 (First Nations Version)

Having successfully tracked down Whip-poor-wills made the prospect of a hike up a cold, wet mountain at dark less appealing since now it would not be in hopes of adding two species to my year list for Kennebec County, only one, Common Nighthawk. Having had a remarkable month of May, ending with more species so far this year than I had in some full years, the conclusion of the cost/benefit analysis was to stay home and to take a chance on late migrant Nighthawks, or catch them in the fall. I was a victim of my own success. Twitching (chasing birds to get them on a list) always runs the risk of missing the forest for the trees. The joy shifts toward the satisfaction of building numbers rather than enjoying the beauty of the birds. The find begins to overshadow the hunt, when part of the whole point should be the unknowing.

At Pentecost, a small congregation suddenly became huge. They had not been pursuing growth. Rather it was just the opposite, the Holy Spirit, the hound of heaven, pursued them. I wonder if the sudden influx of thousands of members shifted their metric. Did they become victims of their own success and turn to the pursuit of fannies in pews as the measure of vitality? In a capitalist culture, it is far too easy to prioritize quantity over quality. That first Christian congregation, regardless of size, is reported to have lived together in harmony, caring for each other to the point that none had any need. Who wouldn’t choose that today over the division and quarreling that the Church is known for?

The group that did take the trip that night reported an enjoyable evening dodging the nearby showers and being serenaded by a couple of Whip-poor-wills. Funny, they never mentioned missing the Nighthawk.

Prayer: Precious Pursuer, remind us that what truly counts is often that which we cannot count. Amen.

While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” ~Acts 1:10-11

Birders have a term for it, warbler neck. It is that literal pain in the neck that results from constant scanning of treetops for tiny flitting specks of color, i.e. warblers. Spring migration is all about looking up, literally and figuratively. There is a swelling of optimism each morning that breaks with the promise of new species arriving in the neighborhood, even if they are just stopping off on their trek northward.

For me, this year has been looking up in terms of being on pace to set a personal best for the number of species recorded in Kennebec County. So much so, that looking up in hope of spotting migrants, I’m looking up details about arrival dates for those very local breeders not yet on the list. Birds like that last warbler (Louisiana Waterthrush) that is “in” in Hallowell, but I haven’t chased yet. Or that last swallow (Cliff) that should be “in” in Augusta any day now. Or that last Sparrow (Vesper) that simply needs to be cooperative when I get around to visiting the blueberry barrens in Vienna. All are pretty much stakeouts requiring patience, more looking out for the opportunity than looking up in hope.

The story of the Ascension of Jesus is a powerful metaphor about where to look for help, hope, power, and strength. The disciples are looking longingly toward the far off heavens, while a pair of angels remind them to lower their gaze and expect to find the spirit of God where she always resides, among God’s people. Heaven is not then and there, it is here and now.

Prayer: Surprising Spirit, grant us the patience and stamina to seek you, remembering that you nest among us. Amen.

And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. ~ Acts 2:2

Mourning Doves are not exactly great architects. When it comes to nest building they are more impatient than precise. The nicest nest that I have seen my neighborhood doves in was one leftover by some other species from last year so the pair of doves simply set up house earlier this spring. So far, so good, they are still sitting on the nest. The other day, I saw a second pair investigating the eaves of the house across the street...again. This has never proven to be a good idea since it leaves them exposed to the ravenous crows of the block who would gladly snack on dove eggs given the chance. Watching the male bring a twig to the location where the female was sitting typifies their tendency to lay an egg before there is much of a nest to lay it in. Doves may be gentle, but they are doggedly persistent, when they show up, they move in.

Mourning Doves belong to the genus Zenaida, named in honor of Princess Zenaida Laetitia Julie Bonaparte, but I’m going to guess that her friends called her Zen. Though unintentionally connecting doves with Zen practice, the focus of staying present in the moment does seem to describe the single-mindedness of doves. When that results in not enough nest to contain their eggs, the lack of future planning does appear to be ill-advised. Still, you have to respect their prioritizing of what needs doing here and now.

At Pentecost, the arrival of the Holy Spirit is announced in a violent wind and flames dancing on the believers’ heads, not the descent of a peaceful dove as it had been at Jesus’ baptism. But considering that the Spirit drove Jesus immediately into a wilderness vision quest, it would seem that she has a very clear desire to take no excuses about lack of preparation, what you need is here and when you need to act is now. Though I’m not equipped to speak about Zen, it is clear to me that just like a dove sitting on an egg, a sitting meditation that puts you in touch with your true nature, is a practice that leads to the power of compassion.

Prayer: Holy Spirit, fill us with your power and lead us forth with love. Amen.

YHWH will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore. ~Psalm 121:8

The first question non-birders always ask about the World Series of Birding is about how cheating is prevented. Well it can’t be and that is sort of the point. The temptation to lie about sightings is always present, but if you do, others will know, they just will. At that level of intense birding the difference between skill and luck becomes transparent. The other competitors recognize when a team has given into temptation.

A birding “big day” (like the World Series) is, in a way, a limitation of temptation. The real temptation is to never stop birding. Right now, the potential of seeing a first-of-the-year species builds with each passing day. Getting outside early and often while there are other responsibilities is the real temptation. The most effective way to resist temptation is the weather. When there is a drought, rain is salvation, it ends the suffering, sets things back in order. During migration, praying for rain is like a gambler hoping that the power will go out at the casino, removing even the possibility of temptation.

Jesus knew temptation, just like every human does. His temptations in the wilderness were key to his finding his calling. So it seems unlikely that he would suggest that we pray to not be led into temptation. Rather, what the Lord’s Prayer seems to be suggesting is avoiding the time of trial, that is, the external conditions that lead to struggles beyond our control. We are never prevented from crying out to God for relief. The crowds on Palm Sunday did exactly that when they shouted “Hosanna!” which means “save us.” So perhaps it is akin to praying for rain, the kind that ends the drought.

Prayer: Hosanna! Save us! Let it rain! Amen.

Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Abba in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses. ~Mark 11:25

I don’t think that birds hold grudges per se, though they definitely have memories of past wrongs. Remembering which other species are potential threats is essential for survival. Whether born with the knowledge or acquiring it from individual or group experience, bird behavior is shaped in responses that sometimes resemble human resentments but it takes a human to maintain a feud based on long-forgotten offenses. Trespass against a bird often enough and their behavior will change because they will adapt. They will learn to flee or fight based on past experience, but we can’t really know how they feel about it.

When we think about trespassing in a literal sense, there is no denying that we humans trespass not only on one another’s territories but very much also on our more-than-human kin’s territories. With other human kin, there are issues beyond the physical, so that we find ourselves needing to offer and seek forgiveness. But in the natural world, we too often measure harm only in the cost to humans and rarely consider how those kin might sense our trespasses as transgressions. On those occasions when we feel like mother nature is out to get retribution on us, surely that is our guilt speaking. The good news is that Creation’s built-in design always works for healing and restoration. If we simply stop trespassing, we are forgiven. When we stop destroying, life steps in and repairs. And when we go the extra step of making amends through offsetting the damage we have done and providing assistance to the recovery, creation responds with abundance.

Oh that we would learn the lessons God has written in the book of creation, we might not find as much need to be forgiven our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Prayer: Just and Merciful Creator, thank you for the freedom we find in forgiveness to have our wrongs made right. Amen.

Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. ~James 5:16

Brown-headed Cowbirds get a bad rap. Their practice of laying eggs in the nests of other species earns them the name parasite. Frankly, it is remarkable that the species survives at all given that each bird starts off in foster care, how do they learn cowbird ways when they aren’t with other cowbirds? Actually, the secret to their success is that mama cowbird rounds up her young from their various homes for some nocturnal family time, returning them in the morning to the places where they are nurtured.

Yes, it seems a tad shifty to orphan your child with a family who didn’t sign up for the job and can’t say “no.” Yes, some species recognize the intruder and remove the egg or abandon the nest. And yes, sometimes the sacrifices made for the adoptive nestling overwhelm the hosts. But to be fair, this is how Cowbirds are wired, they are being true to their nature, which relies on a network of creatures who, knowingly or not, are committed to serving the common good.

How often are we spiritual cowbirds in our prayers? When we invite others to pray for us, aren’t we in effect asking for some help incubating our needy eggs? And what is praying that we be given today our daily bread, anything other than asking for God to provide for us like an adoptive mother bird? Thankfully, God’s mercy is so overpowering that it is making God an offer they can’t refuse. The instruction to ask for daily sustenance implies that we need to ask daily because, like the manna in the wilderness, there is always enough, but never enough to horde. We are literally at God’s mercy, but what could be better than dwelling in the center of loving abundance that we did not earn?

Prayer: Abba God, we confess that we have tried holding onto spiritual leftovers, but here we are, hungry again asking for our manna for today. Amen.

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.” ~ Luke 17: 20-21

An Osprey has been frequenting our neighborhood recently. I can’t see the Messalonskee Stream from my house, but the Osprey and I both know that it is only a block away. That is important for a bird with an exclusively fish diet, a fact not known by the Grackle I watched chasing the predator away the other day. The Grackle was just doing Grackle things, hardwired to protect his nest by harassing large birds that might eat their eggs or nestlings. Still, if I could identify the Osprey, why couldn’t he?

I suppose I was just a birder doing birder things. I’ve watched Ospreys fishing, flapping those long wings in order to hover in place peering down into the water for prey. I’ve marveled at the way they plummet to the water, snatching fish from deep below the surface, then always adjusting the position to carry it headfirst to improve the aerodynamics. I’ve also studied the work of ornithologists who describe how perfectly their feet are designed for this specific task. They are especially scaly to improve grip. One of their toes is able to pivot backwards allowing them to grasp the wriggling fish with two talons in front matched by two behind.

Just like the Grackle and Osprey are being true to their purpose l am compelled to observe, learn, and marvel. If I could make a living by birding it could be called my vocation rather than my avocation, but that doesn’t make it any less of a calling (the literal meaning of vocation). Actually, limiting our search to one unique calling is a mistake. When we do that we deny that the Creator may have bestowed multiple gifts on us. Among the gifts given us humans are the abilities to discern meaning and change perspectives. We observe something like a Grackle chasing an Osprey and think we know more than the Grackle, only to find through further research that an Osprey’s diet is only 99% fish and sometimes that 1% is other birds. Isn’t it good that we can change our perspective and see new things…like seeing that the kin-dom of heaven is not some distant destination, but is actually among us?

Prayer: Ever-present One, open the eyes of our hearts, and show us where to look to find your kin-dom. Amen.

On the sixth day God finished the work that God had done, and God rested on the seventh day from all the work… So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that God had done in creation. ~Genesis 2:2-3

Vultures are either wicked lazy, or perhaps wicked smart, maybe both. They are exceedingly efficient at getting somewhere by doing next to nothing. Those long wings sustain them on the slightest breeze, in fact, all they need is a warm column of air rising, something we wouldn’t even recognize as a breeze. Those long finger-like primary feathers sticking off the ends of their wings are all they need to steer as they circle in the sky. If you have ever held your hand outside the window of a speeding car and lifted a single finger you know how that system works. With an olfactory system that can detect the smell of rotting flesh a mile away, Turkey Vultures can afford to drift high then drop to the next air current to survey vast areas, spending precious little energy in the process as they wait to find their next meal.

It is that association with death that gives vultures a bad name. A kettle of circling vultures (complete with the annoyingly incorrect voice of a Red-tailed Hawk) is a staple of Westerns when some poor soul is trying to survive in the desert. The truth is that they are nature’s sanitation workers, doing vital cleanup work. Although we too often elevate hard work and busy-ness to such lofty heights that we are tempted to see rest as some sort of sin, we know that rest is at least a reward when we echo the prophet Isaiah, proclaiming that “there is no rest for the wicked.” The truth is that rest is holy, it is something set aside in order to be seen as sacred, it is what God is currently doing. But that is not to say that God is absent, like some watchmaker who has wound up what they made and is sitting back admiring it. God is more like those vultures, having completed the heavy lifting of six days of creation and now is exploiting the gift of simple soaring and easy travel. Oh that we would abandon our wicked ways and stick to the hallowed path laid before us.

Prayer: God of Sabbath, remind us again of the particular gifts you have given each of us that we might find the holy rest of staying in our lanes. Amen.

You can find videos of the suggested prayer practice at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_fomEdZlKt5wHFEJ9FbO4YlDtMIZghn

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And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me, yet not what I want but what you want.” ~Mark 14:35-36

Ornithologists have a bad habit of renaming birds. To be fair, they have the unenviable task of keeping the lumps and splits clear. This happens when the science indicates that two species are actually one or one is now two. Thus, in the time I have been actively birding, I had to learn that the Green Herons in my area were now to be called Green-backed Herons, only later to have to go back to calling them Green Herons. Just the other day, my mind was stuck on Solitary Vireo, stumbling to remember their new (and more appropriate) name, Blue-headed Vireo.

There are governing bodies established to regulate the common names of species, which is challenging considering how many nicknames folks use for common birds. Some are just fun, like calling Woodcocks, Timberdoodles or American Bitterns, Thunderboomers. Some nicknames are confusing, like calling North American Vultures, Buzzards even though the hawks in Europe by that name are in the same family as Red-tailed Hawks here. Others are actually helpful shorthand descriptions. Many birders call Mourning Doves, MODO’s after the code that bird banders use. More than a few of us can’t resist shortening Yellow-rumped Warbler to Butterbutt. Then there is my unique dilemma remembering that the actual name is Common Yellowthroat not Witchity. For many years my World Series of Birding team, playing off the song of the little warbler, which is said to say “witchity, witchity, witchity” were the Wicked Witchities.

When Jesus’ disciples asked him to teach them to pray, he used a unique name for God to indicate an intimate, personal relationship. We read the name as Father but the word he used, Abba, was more like Daddy or Papa. When we recite the Lord’s Prayer only as formal liturgy, we risk losing the warmth and familiarity that was originally intended. Regardless of the name we use to address the Divine, we are all bound together as beloved children. That is a beautiful and radical concept.

Prayer: Our Daddy in heaven we could use a big mommy hug about now. Amen.

Jesus then said, “Don’t hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to Abba God. Rather, go to the sisters and brothers and tell them, ‘I’m ascending to my Abba and to your Abba, my God and your God!’” ~ John 20:17

When Spring is in full force the dawn chorus of birdsong sneaks into my head forcing my brain to think that I might be missing something so it tells my body to get out of bed and hit the road. But it was still too early for that this past week when I decided to chase an elusive, rare woodpecker two hours away. Even when I want to start a birding trip well before dawn it is not unusual for anticipation to wake me up before the alarm. So by 7 AM, I was standing in mossy, coniferous woods along the rugged coast soaking up the calm stillness of the day.

There were precious few birds of only a handful of species. The siskins and crossbills never materialized, remaining heard but not seen. But I was committed to staying as long as necessary, even knowing that others had spent up to five hours waiting only to leave disappointed. Fortunately, that was not to be my fate. After about an hour at the stakeout location, I gave in to the worry that it might be somewhere else nearby so I walked the trail a bit. When I returned, I saw what every birder coming to a stakeout wants to see, a group of birders pointing and looking in the same direction. They showed me the one bid moving in that area, an American Three-toed Woodpecker, my 491st lifer!

Choosing what to do next when the chase is over is often not as simple as it seems. Yes, I had found what I desired, but none of my photos were very good and being that last person at the location, maybe it was my responsibility to wait for the next birder to whom I could pass the baton. Then there is the urge for more. It was still early in the day and there was that Pink-footed Goose that I could also chase. I decided on the latter.

I got thinking about the variety of callings that this journey required. There is the first call that draws us from slumber into action. That must be powerful to overcome inertia. Then there is the calling to persevere in the search. Finally, there is the calling to keep on after success or failure. What must it have been like for Jesus’ followers, like Mary, who were called to follow to frightening places where they discovered remarkable things they didn’t know they were seeking? The calling that got them to start the journey needed to be replaced by the calling to grasp, then spread, the good news of the grand possibilities of new life.

Prayer: God of New Life and New Adventures, keep calling us. Keep sending us. Our minds may stagger, but our hearts are strong. Amen.