“The bird gots no head! The bird gots no head!” My tow-haired three year old burst through the door to tell our family the news. Reluctantly, I followed him outside to investigate, and it was true. The remains of a once beautiful male cardinal lay there decapitated. “Yuck,” I said and removed the carcass. Our energetic Labrador retriever had changed my lesson from bird diversity to bird mortality. Obviously, spreading seed on the deck rail was a bad idea. However, I still thought bird watching was a worthy pursuit, so as we moved from state to state, I installed bird feeders, being careful to keep them out of the dog’s reach. Our bird watching caught on. Even my busy husband became interested in identifying visitors to the birdie buffet. The tow-headed child kept watching. When he was in college, he even took an ornithology course twice, not because he’d failed it the first time, but because he loved it. Since the bird lab convened at 6:00 a.m. in the woods on Saturday mornings, I was impressed.
Years passed and my grandchildren joined the game. Once we’d mastered what the dog, cow and horse said, we added “What does the cardinal say? What does the mourning dove say? What does the robin say?” They caught on really quickly, as little kids do, and then moved on to other hobbies as they grew older. Sports and peer friendships replaced hot- chocolate- bird- watching sessions with Nana. It had to happen. But occasionally, I’ll hear a teenager say, “I hear a red-winged blackbird in that thicket.” Ahh!
Two days ago, we received the season’s first snowfall, and I realized the bird feeders were empty. By the time I’d suited up to address the situation, it was sleeting. Back and forth I tromped, from trashcan containers of seed on the deck to the feeders hanging from tree branches outside my study window. The dogs followed along, barking for no apparent reason. It was their “Hey! I don’t know what we’re doing, but isn’t it fun?” When the last feeder was hung, they quit barking and I heard it–the avian telegraph. I hadn’t made it back to the door before the chirping and twittering began. Birds were joyfully telling other birds that brunch was served. How do I know this? It happens every time.
The dogs do it too. When I head toward the kibble bin, they begin barking. Jennie specializes in seven syllable messages: “Wu wu wu. Wu wu wu woof.” Poppy whines. Pip grunts under his breath. Seamus yips in an upper register. They know it’s feeding time and they put on a show. Put the food out and they proclaim their delight, singing and dancing.
In contrast to this, humans have invented “Friendsgiving.” I heard it from a young presenter on Youtube as she whipped up a pumpkin pie recipe. “How silly,” I thought, ” what is being given?” Even though the word doesn’t make sense, the purpose is clear. It’s a dinner prepared on Thanksgiving Day by ungrateful people for ungrateful people. It’s an effort to eject God from the party through alternative naming. As a Christian and a word person, I suggest calling it something else. How about “Stupendously Self-Centered Day”?
Thanksgiving is a response which all creatures express in their own language: dogs bark, birds twitter, horses nicker. They realize they’re getting a gift, and it is their nature to announce what some of us will go to ridiculous lengths to suppress. When I was small, I was constantly reminded by conscientious parents to “Say thank you.” Sadly, much of our culture has missed that memo, and it is dehumanizing us because as creatures, we were designed to praise. Animals do it by default; they can’t help it. Humans however, have been given a choice. I propose that we return to truth and “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth.
Serve the Lord with gladness;
Come before Him with joyful singing.
Know that the Lord Himself is God;
It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves;
We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.
Enter His gates with thanksgiving
And His courts with praise.
Give thanks to Him, bless His name.
For the Lord is good;
His lovingkindness is everlasting
And His faithfulness to all generations.
Psalm 100
