It was such a busy, active, full weekend, that I feel as though I entered a time-warping that lasted several months or so. Everything feels so unfamiliar. I keep asking, when was the last time I checked my e'mail? Then realize that it was merely a couple days. I arrived at work, and the twins looked so big, and their voices seemed more mature. Yet, only three days really passed? Oh, I need to check my calandar - surely it's mid-July by now. Nope. Same to-do list in messy handwriting, still staring back at me, only the month of April. April?!? Yikes! Where has the time gone?
Maybe it's because the days are brighter and longer.
All weekend we were in Permaculture class, methodically learning the steps to the design process. This is to prepare us for next weekend, where we'll be doing the design practicum for 3 days straight, for what will seem to require 24 hours of work each day. As much as I love this class, and cherish what I am learning, it will make for a very un-Easterish Easter.
The robins are back in full force. I love passing a field and seeing twenty of them, doing their typical run-run-stop/listen. Phil and I spent so much time last winter listening to recordings of robin-voice, playing it over and over in the car tape-deck. Hearing them outside now regularly is so refreshing.
Driving somewhere yesterday (probably in a frenzy as I've felt all weekend), I spotted a roadkill robin. Without hesitation, I said, "Roadkill robin!" and with equally rapid response, Phil pulled over, U-turned, and I hopped out and gently lifted the little feathered body.
Roadkill is often such a waste. It attracts other animals, which are then often struck as they try to feed on the body. Or, it dries and bakes in the sun, unfit to be even eaten by bugs. But, sometimes it provides opportunities. We, in our blue Saturn, stop to toss bodies to the shoulder, to let crows and foxes find it in safety. We pick up bodies to collect bones, feathers, teeth, or other parts - in an attempt to understand more, the carefully designed patterns in creation. We take skins or hides to learn tanning skills from times past, and in the process understand the bodies themselves better. Sometimes, we find something that is suitable for us to eat as well. We give thanks.
This robin was not to eat. But, as I cradled the body, admiring all the detail of color I never noticed on a living robin, I felt its skull and found (to my amazement), that it was unbroken. It had a broken wing, and probably other internal damage.
Back home, I removed some feathers, and made an envelope with notes about the body, where I found it, how it died, and any other information I might want for future reference. I added this envelope to my growing catalog of feathers. I easily pulled the head off, and skinned it. The skull, I will either tie to a tree branch and let weather and bugs clean it, or wrap in wire mesh and bury, letting the soil organisms do the same thing.
I give thanks.