Teddy and the Robin

I have been feeling a bit under the weather this spring that occasionally still poses as winter, with a lingering bug of some sort and dreary of heart. Taking breaks from napping and book reading, I spend a good amount of time looking out the windows. There is a tree outside our family room where a robin (They came back a while ago along with redwing blackbirds and sandhill cranes) perches and does what robins do.

Teddy, our still puppy-ish Morkie has developed a relationship with this robin. The robin lands in the tree, Teddy cries to go outside, and once let out races to the tree and jumps as high as he can, about twenty inches, yapping the entire time.

Robin Redbreast watches with great interest, cocking his head, but then he takes flight and dive-bombs Teddy. (I so wish I could capture video, but they are both wicked fast and too far away for the video to be effective.)

Teddy does not shy away from the robin. He continues to prance around on his hind legs and leap as the robin soars over his head. I wonder what Teddy’s game plan is. Does he simply want to play, as puppies are wont to do? Is he protecting his territory, or (gulp) does he want a snack?

And what about the robin? Does the robin see Teddy as a life-threatening threat? As one hell of a way to have some fun? Or is the robin, too, being territorial and protective of a prospective nesting site?

I have these thoughts as I watch them. I sit, with a stuffy nose, throbbing head, and scratchy throat trying to comprehend why these animals are doing what they are doing. But perhaps, I should just enjoy the distraction from feeling lousy.

It occurs to me, that there is another point of view in this whole scenario other than Teddy’s, the robin’s, and mine. It’s the higher power, or nature, or God point of view. The presence that just allows the moment to be, the story to unfold, Teddy and the robin to play. There is no judgment, no rhyme or reason to it all, it just is. Maybe, I should take the cue, and be more of a witness. Maybe I should just bask in the very moment of their play.

I let Teddy back inside because the robin has winged out of sight. Teddy’s giddy, jumping against my knees with muddy paws, panting, bright eyed, full of life, full of joy.

And then, the robin sings, having returned to his branch in the tree right outside my window.

“It’s spring,” he says.

“Time to wake up.”