The Meaning of Birds: a story in 60 seconds

Look to the sky for answers

Her grandfather put a finger to his lips. Quietly, he pointed toward a distant tree.

“I don’t see it,” the little girl whispered excitedly.

“There,” he said, “right above that big twisting branch.”

“Next to the white tree?”

He nodded. “Yes, next to the birch.”

She squinted. “Oh!” she gasped. “I see it; I see it!”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He offered his granddaughter the binoculars from around his neck. She reached for them eagerly and put them to her face.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” he replied. “Male cardinals have brighter feathers than the females. That’s how you can tell the two apart.”

“It’s so pretty,” she cooed before returning the binoculars to her grandfather.

“Do you know why they’re so red?” he asked.

The girl shook her head.

“It’s because they eat a lot of berries.”

She smiled and looked at him. “Will I turn red if I eat a lot of berries?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he grinned.

Her eyes widened, but then her face relaxed and regained its sparkle.

“I love bird watching,” she said after a moment. “There’s so much stuff to know.”

Her grandfather nodded and inhaled quietly as he admired the stillness of the forest. 

“The Native Americans believed that the cardinal is a symbol of love and renewal,” he said. “Can you imagine walking through the woods after a fresh snowfall and seeing this little red fellow darting from tree to tree? You’d probably think spring is right around the corner.”

He glanced over at his granddaughter, but her attention had drifted elsewhere. She pointed up toward the sky above them.

“Wow,” she gasped. “What are those?”

The grandfather shielded his eyes from the sun as he craned his neck backward. Three giant shadows circled overhead.

“Vultures,” the grandfather said grimly.

“And what do they symbolize?”