Chickadees don’t give a rip about the stock market! That’s just one of many things I love about this wonderful little creature. So instead of sitting inside watching my retirement account fly away, I like to go outside and watch my favorite bird—a creature that owned this country long before Wall Street! They were with the starving Pilgrims their first year in the Plymouth Colony. They were around the campfires at Valley Forge. They were picking seeds amid the din of Gettysburg. They were sometimes handfed by Civilian Conservation Corps workers during the Great Depression. They watched FDR pondering his war decisions at Camp David (then called Shangri-la!). Daily they visit the trees around the lonely crash site of Flight 93. And there they are today in my now leaf-bare Juneberry tree.

I love chickadees because they live life with gusto. They’re small, fragile, and vulnerable—especially to the northern goshawk who loves to visit my birdfeeder every winter, pursuing sparrows and juncos into the shrubs with such vigor that snow cascades down on prowler and prey alike. After the threat has passed, which are the first to arrive back at the feeder? The chickadees—even while feathers are still flying! Their boldness is a wonder—a boldness my oldest son and I experienced at a camp a couple decades ago. Seeing a few of them in a pine tree nearby, I told Greg to pick a few peanut pieces out of his Snickers bar, place them in the palm of his hand, and walk slowly toward a low hanging bough. It was hardly a minute before one of the little birds landed on his hand to grab a treat. I had my camera with me, so I instructed Greg to hold really still so I could capture the event on film. Looking through the eyepiece, I saw one land again and then disappear before I could trip the shutter. But I held the camera still, thinking it would return soon—which it did, but not to my son’s hand: through the camera I saw Greg smiling and pointing toward me. I slowly lifted my head and found the bird perched on my telephoto lens! Neither of us will ever forget the joy of the wonderful feeling a human being has when he is trusted by vulnerable wild creatures.

Here’s my take on chickadees: Threats surround them everywhere. Most other birds outweigh them dramatically. If they had to stop and worry about all the risks and threats, life would be miserable for them; so they seem to say, “Darn the goshawks. Full speed ahead!” They know life is a risk, but that’s not going to stop them from enjoying it. It seems that in their little spirits they have somehow heard these comforting words: “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God” (Luke 12:6).

So as my retirement savings tick daily downward, it’s probably good for me to go outdoors and be preached at by the chickadees.

See you outdoors!

Dean