Follow Me

Once I saw a bright red cardinal perched among the leafless branches against a clear, crisp, bright-blue sky. He looked down at me, tilted his head, and jumped to a lower branch. He looked at me again and then flew to the next tree down the street. I followed.

I was on my way downtown and knew this game couldn’t last for long, but I paused under the next tree. I tilted my head this way and that and spied the cardinal high up in the tree’s crown. Unable to see where he was looking, I patiently waited and quietly coaxed him down lower. Then I spotted his mate flying over from a tall pine or possibly from my neighbor’s snow-covered roof. She was small and fair, her blush feathers visible only in flight. She weightlessly alighted on the next tree down the street, and the red cardinal immediately flew to join her. I followed.

           

It was less than ten paces to the next tree, but by the time I arrived neither cardinal was in sight. On the sparsely tree-lined city street I would have seen them take flight. Somewhere amidst the tangled branches they playfully hid in plain sight. I watched and waited for movement. The sounds of city traffic faded to the background as I listened for a flutter of wings or rustle of branches. After some time, I walked on.