The Tapestry Experience

American Redstart

Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. ~ Acts 2:2-4

The traveling tapestry of sights and sounds that is spring bird migration is mostly over. For the past few weeks, there were dawns filled with symphonies and morning displays of breathtaking color. Now those bright songsters are either north of here or beginning to settle into a more quiet and clandestine existence on their breeding territory. Whether the show has dropped in where you are or if you have to go out looking for it, either way the gift is the diversity.

Probably the most confounding singer in the bunch is the American Redstart. They nest here, so once they start showing up, they stick around. Their song is hard to describe. It is definitely “warblery”…and that is the issue. Most warblers have unique patterns that are helpful. Yellow Warblers sing “sweet, sweet, sweet, I’m so sweet,” which sometimes sounds rather similar to the Chestnut-sided’s “pleased, pleased, pleased to meet you!” The similarity requires a pause and attention, but the difference ultimately is discernible. Redstarts, on the other hand, not only lack an easily identifiable pattern (i.e. they don’t “say” anything) they seem to have a variety of patterns, and for all I know, individuals mix it up. I’ve read that Tufted Titmice have 14 unique, identifiable songs, but at least they always sound like a Titmouse (well, sometimes they sound like a Cardinal, and other times like a Chickadee, but ultimately the distinction can be heard). My general rule for identifying Redstarts by ear is “when you don’t know which warbler it is, it is a Redstart.”

When the southbound, silent return trip occurs in the fall, Redstarts do us the favor of not becoming flitting balls of muted yellow. Yes, they are quiet, and yes, they flit, but they retain their distinctive, diagnostic tail pattern, making them easy to pick out of the crowd. Fall migration is when diversity is more difficult to discern, but that is no reason not to celebrate. Knowing that there are multiple species moving through your location becomes a burden of discernment. Still, it is that very fact that empowers this whole endeavor.

Surely, part of the work that the mighty rushing Spirit began on that Pentecost was the breaking down of silos of similarity that deny diversity. The disciples were victims of their fears and unknowing, choosing to draw in with the familiar and like-minded. It is a natural human tendency we have practiced ever since the Tower of Babel. But God’s plan is that we scatter our gifts (even if they are instant and miraculous like speaking in tongues) out into the world where diversity grows.

Prayer: Divine Weaver, when we see only knots, give us a glimpse of the tapestry on the other side. Amen.