I’ve been really down this week for pretty understandable reasons. I’ve not exactly been happy in my personal life, I’ve got so much work to do on campus, what with the accelerated paper schedule my seminar profs are imposing this term, trying to figure out my breadth and orals lists, teaching a class I’ve never taught before, and taking a pedagogy course to be able to teach literature in the future.
I’m drained, and I’m depressed. All it seems I want to do is watch television.
So I’m trying to keep in mind something I saw a couple weeks ago. Walking to campus to teach early one morning at the end of March, I was shivering in my jacket and trying to admire the daffodils in the Education department’s courtyard when all of a sudden I heard this weird little scratching noise. It was weird enough that I stopped to listen more closely. I quickly identified it as a hummingbird call! Perched among the leafless branches sat a hummingbird–probably an Anna’s hummingbird (audio call at link)–chirping his scratchy call just as proud as you please.
It seemed very anomalous from my perspective–this little, fragile bird that clearly needs some level of environmental warmth and a constant stream of food in order to survive sitting on a leafless tree in the cold carrying on just as strong and stout as ever–that it sort of touched me. If this tiny bird can do it, so can I.