Now, I’m not really a birder. Isn’t that what they call diehard bird-watchers? The ones who swat mosquitos for hours on end in the woods, staring at a hole in a tree, hoping to spot a rare avian treasure?
No, I’m not patient enough. But I do enjoy a bit of serendipitous bird-glimpsing (not nearly on the same plane as watching). And I observed something interesting this week.
Not all birds fly alike. You may have known this all along, but it was a revelation to me. Birds have different styles in transporting themselves through the air.
Some flail about, flapping their wings in frenzied fashion, especially if heading into a headwind. Maximum effort, minimal results.
Others glide on invisible wind currents, soaring through the blue skies seemingly effortlessly. Minimum effort, beautiful results.
And then there are the breast strokers. That’s what I call them, anyway. Their style is somewhere betwixt the other two. I watched one today and really identified with him. He scooped a dollop of air backwards with both wings and then mini-soared for about three seconds before repeating with another wingful of momentum. Scoop, mini-soar. Scoop, mini-soar. Scoop, mini-soar. Just like he was doing the breast stroke in a pool of air. Medium effort, medium results.
That’s kind of my coping style much of the time too, I guess. I put forth a modicum of effort and reap mediocre results. But instead of raising myself to a higher level where I could soar through the skies on the wind beneath my wings, I stay in the blustery middle, huffing and puffing along.
And before I know it, I’m flailing and flapping about near the ground, trying to stay out of the range of windshields and large canine teeth.
What about you, dearest BFF (Blessed Friend Forever)? What’s your coping style? Are you a flapper, a breast-stroker, or a glider?