We adore Wood Thrushes. It's not that we've seen many, but we hear their heavenly song ring out from the summer woods day and night — notes floating on air.
Mike looked over the treehouse rail when we finished our chicken taco dinner at the tiny table and found a nest on a hemlock branch. Like priceless sapphires, three impossibly blue eggs glowed inside. We thought "Robin" and felt thrilled about our clear view. Moments later, a white-breasted brown bird caught his eye. "Wood Thrush??," I blurted. We looked with binoculars to see if the nest was caked with mud, a Robin's signature. No visible mud. "But do Wood Thrushes lay blue eggs?" Google said yes! The next day, I tip-toed to the treehouse and found her.
I didn’t dare peek through the spindles for more than a few seconds. Setting up a tripod was out of the question (it would keep her away); and the long, too-heavy-for-my-grip lens dipped each time I pressed the shutter button. By the grace of God, I got two pictures clear enough. The gift of not only seeing the elusive Wood Thrush but seeing the elusive Wood Thrush nesting stunned, and then I remembered. I'd been praying about the last few pictures of my 365 project. Praying to honor Him with a special subject — a subject beyond my ability to create — and here I have it. Praise be to God for this unquestionable answer to prayer!
"This is the only bird whose note affects me like music—affects the flow and tenor of my thought—my fancy and imagination. It lifts and exhilarates me. It is inspiring. It is a medicative draught to my soul. It is an elixir to my eyes and a fountain of youth to all my senses. It changes all hours to an eternal morning,"
— Henry David Thoreau
