मराठीसंस्कृती.भारत
  Marathi Culture and Festivals

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“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.”
― C. JoyBell C.

Birds of many varieties were happily chirping and feasting on the seeds, undisturbed by my presence or my music. I remembered reading a sign at the beginning of the trail to look for the Western Scrub-Jay, must be the spring visitors, I thought. Fairly uphill climb covered with slippery pebbles forced me to watch where I was going until a Blue jay flew right past me and quickly disappeared in the nearby tree, his blue wings; just a quick flash of blue. I waited for few seconds for him to return, feeling disappointed I continued with my climb.

Occasional flowering bush with peach tubular flowers reminded me of “Aboli (Crossandra)” flowers of my childhood; popping the seeds like firecracker by holding them in the mouth was a source of entertainment for hours. Trail zigzagged with the views of surrounding mountains and the vast blue sky above, lonely hawk patiently flying in circle looking for his prey. It seemed like he was effortlessly floating on the air. Noisy clucking quails, sensing my presence quickly disappeared in the nearby bushes but quiet white cottontail rabbits did not seem to mind my presence and held their ground. View from the top was worth the climb, clumps of distant houses on one side and the shimmering water of Pacific in the distance on the other. The trail split on the downhill climb to Crystal Cove and Laguna Beach. Avoiding the temptation of following either of those trails I decided to return home, by now the Sun was already up and temperature was rising making it uncomfortable.

When I returned home a Hummingbird was feeding on the fresh Sugar water, he noticed my presence but did not show any inclination to move. He must have been waiting for a long time for the new comers, bigger and stronger Yellow Orioles to vacate their feeder. I made it a point to get some more feeders to hang around the garden to keep them all happy. To my surprise the seed feeder on the windowsill had two newcomers; Western Scrub- Jays, unlike hummingbird they disappeared when they sensed my presence. I do get many such visitors to my garden, happily clucking quails teaching their babies to find the tiny seeds fallen from the feeder or lineup on the birdbath to drink the water, not all as exotic but equally happy to find the food and I have learnt to love them all.

A long time ago a wise little girl once said to me “Every bird, even those not so pretty do get hungry”
- Anonymous