Under the Canopy

My backyard is filled with a variety of trees, bushes, plants, and flowers, including camellias, Thuja green giants, tall pine trees, and a host of other plants. It is a wondrous world unto itself and provides for all the needs of the creatures that make their home there.

To me, my backyard is a representation of life in general. There is new growth and life present in the trees and bushes, as well as death, so while there is beauty to behold, there is also danger around every bend.

On a morning in the spring, I make my way to the shade of my large elm tree. The wind is blowing at approximately five miles per hour, and the sun is gradually coming up over the horizon. I sit here with my cup of coffee in hand and pay close attention to everything I hear in the morning. Under the protection of the canopy, I can hear the squirrels scurrying from limb to limb as they search for their first meal of the day. They keep themselves busy searching for food and nuts from the moment the sun rises until it sets. They are unable to spare any time. They are driven by their insatiable hunger, just as our ancestors who hunted and gathered were driven by their hunger. The cycle of life never ends for them, just as it does for us; we are born, and then we pass away. We take in food and make every effort to secure employment so we can support ourselves and our families. It feels like it goes on forever, and while some people find that to be a dream, others find it to be a living torment.

A blue jay brings its young their breakfast in the morning as it flies down into its nest, which is in one of my camellias. As I listen, I can make out the sound of their teeny-tiny voices pleading for food. They are defenseless and extremely vulnerable, and they are reliant on their parents. Within days, they will emerge from their nests and start their independent lives someplace under my canopy or elsewhere. They will eventually locate a suitable partner, construct a nest, and start a new family of blue jays. The natural progression of events through the life cycle can be seen here.

A beautiful dove flies across the canopy when suddenly a red-tailed hawk swoops down, snatches the dove in its talons, and then flies off into the nearby woods to eat its breakfast and feed its own nest of young. When I think about how humble doves really are, my heart sinks as I helplessly watch the attack.

That is life in all its wondrous and perplexing glory, even if it is cruel. It is challenging to witness some of the things that take place here, such as life and death, but this is the way God intended it to be.

We have also had human dangers under the canopy. We have killed the occasional copperhead moccasin and a lone pit bull that roamed our neighborhood and killed fifty of our neighbor’s chickens the other day. Amid such beauty, there is also danger. I watch as a tiny caterpillar climbs its way up the trunk of my elm tree until it is no longer visible. The sound of a pileated woodpecker can be heard in the distance as it moves from one tree to another, picking insects out of every crack and crevice. It eventually makes its way to a dying pine tree on the outskirts of the canopy, where it begins making its distinctive rat-a-tat sound as it burrows its beak deeper and deeper into the dead body of the tree. Because of his brilliant red and white feathers, he has a strikingly beautiful appearance.

A flock of Canadian geese can be seen flying overhead as the sun begins to rise. They travel from one pond to another, where they will graze along the edges of the water and consume their food. They have been given everything they need to live by Mother Nature, which is just enough.

Because it has been several days since the last rain, the canopy is starting to look wilted and in desperate need of water; consequently, I turn on my sprinkler system to provide the needed moisture. I see myself as the person in charge of maintaining this canopy. Because it is my responsibility, I take the obligation very seriously.

As the sun gets brighter, I take another sip of my coffee as more of the activity going on around me becomes visible. Overnight, there were some active little critters in the grass, and they built mounds across the yard. These mounds are now filled with new life-forms. Ants are both welcome and unwelcome on my property, welcome because they help to mulch my lawn and unwelcome because their bites are excruciatingly painful. Oh, how I wish we could all get along and never cause each other any harm, but unfortunately, that is not how life works. Under the canopy, every person and animal has a mission to accomplish, a part to play, and a life to live up to its potential.

As soon as I put out my bird feeder, a variety of bird species begin to congregate there, and I stand transfixed as I marvel at the elegance and dexterity with which they fly to the feeder and then soar off into the clear blue sky of day. I am grateful to be able to say I have personally provided for them.

One recent morning, as I was using a sprinkler hose to water the flowers in the front yard of my house, a beautiful ruby-throated hummingbird came into the stream of water and began to dance around, expressing its gratitude for the refreshing shower of water. I watched as it flew over to the hummingbird feeders on our front porch. We have had the feeders for years, and we change the nectar in them on a regular basis. When they arrive in the middle of March, it is a remarkable sight, and they will even fight over the feeders.

Recently, while I was adjusting the amount of drink in their feeders, one of them flew at me and attempted to attack me. I reasoned with myself, “Little one, if you only knew that I was the one providing for you, you would never even consider attacking me.” However, such is life once more. Humans are notoriously bad at appreciating the contributions of those who bring us food. According to a well-known proverb, “We complain about farmers with our mouths full!” There are times when we show little gratitude for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us.