HOPE WEARS RED FEATHERS

“Hope,” wrote Emily Dickinson, “is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune…” In today’s case, hope’s personification is a sassy cardinal attired in bright scarlet, perched on a branch near the feeding station. All morning he has been singing: “What cheer, cheer, cheer! What cheer, cheer, cheer, cheer!” There can be no doubt the news is encouraging when old Mr. Redbird rears back and rings out his message. “What cheer, cheer, cheer!” His positive outlook and enthusiastic proclamation is contagious. “What cheer, cheer, cheer!” For months now, all I’ve heard from the gaudy cardinals have been their usual, “Purrt! Purrt! Purrt!” as they went about their business nabbing a few sunflower seeds from the basket feeder, or pecking at cracked corn scattered on the ground. But now the redbird’s song is one of procreation. Spring is there, not too great a distance over the seasonal horizon, and it’s inexorably heading our way. The cardinal knows. Moreover, he intends getting the word out. “What cheer, cheer, cheer!” The weatherman says we’ll be getting several inches of snow over the next few days. Such dire predictions have not dampened the redbird’s buoyant spirits one iota. That colorful ol’ bird began singing at daylight, and has continued his upbeat recital every hour since. I’d be willing to wager he’ll carry on the concert when the air is thick with snowflakes, and after the ground has a fluffy new blanket of pristine white. Hope has filled my ears all morning, and now it fills my heart. “What cheer, cheer, cheer!”