My Friend The House Finch

I have several other pictures of this guy - a male house finch - but I chose this one because it shows him at his best.

I want to cry when I see any of my images of him.

He is old.

I think.

His eyes may not work any more.

Some of the other images of him that I have, but didn’t use here, show that his breast feathers are becoming sparse.

Just like my hair.

“I guess us creatures all wear out”, I say to myself.

So, I guess, that I should just shrug.

And move on.

But he is "in there" with all the “kids”.

And he is "making it".

Still.

Even though he looks as if he ought to die pretty soon.

Why can't all of us learn from our "other citizens"/

Why can’t we be as good as house finches?

Probably because we believe that we are “special” and “separate” from house finches, and “unique” even.

And, for that matter, different from the whole rest of life on our planet.

“We” are, so the story goes, “in charge”.

What theistic  bullshit.

But still, I love this guy.

And that love of creatures  - like our cats – the feral kittens, Alfie, Cinq and Rose,extends to them

and their feral mother Genji.

She – Genji - still won’t come in from the cold.

And I find that love to be an increasingly dominant – and important – part of my life; and I find that it  makes me happy – that love – and my being alive with them, those other creatures –  and with my cats and my birds – and to be more meaningful than “being human”.