 |
| The Visitor |
A Christmas story or something out of Poe? Sorry, no. Perhaps it's something a tad paranormal, or more likely a mere avian performance.
A few entries ago, I mentioned the death of my sister earlier in the year.
The follow-up turned out to involve over a dozen trips by myself and other family members to her rural (that is, "in the sticks") home in a nearby state, where we executed the usual duties of cleaning out the house and making things look a little better for the new owners who bought the property.
As we removed the final assortment of clutter, preparing to lock the door for the last time and depart, I walked into the living room where my sister had died with the assistance of Hospice months ago -- checking one more time -- and my attention was suddenly beckoned to a large window on this breezy fall afternoon.
Sharing his efforts between the branches of a tree on which he perched off and on and the air in which he flapped about, pecking repeatedly at the glass, was a beautiful male cardinal, his reds and blacks amply displayed on his chubby, feathered bird body.
I called out to other family members, and one snapped a few photos (one is displayed here) as the bird seemingly attempted to enter the house, frustrated in its imminent failure. Never had we witnessed this bird and his obvious desperation to gain entry -- or, some would suggest, to deliver a message. This behavior continued for several minutes, and even when interrupted by a brief fly-away, the mysterious visitor returned, again determined to peck its way to some unrealized conclusion.
Adding to the strangeness, my sister's favorite color had been red, everything red. She displayed red hummingbird feeders to attract what was generally a flock of h-birds every summer. How she would have enjoyed this colorful visit.
Yes, one may go to the Internet and discover that a cardinal can represent an angel, or can bring to mind other identities of folklore. Was this a farewell message for us at the house where both my sister and her husband had died, a house they constructed by themselves years ago? Had the cardinal thought it detected a food or shelter source, perhaps played tricks upon by external window reflections? Or was it something beyond explanation?
At last, the red and black winged visitor from the forested neighborhood or elsewhere took leave.
Puzzled, yet feeling honored and affected in some way, we left the house to its unaccustomed loneliness, the door's lock clicking securely as I withdrew the key for the last time. Oh yes, I had taken great care not to slam the door hard. Just in case.
