Cardinal Hollow

My dad's brother, Henry, was a major figure in my life. He was the only uncle who wrote regularly during my childhood overseas. He liked to decorate the envelopes with National Wildlife Federation stickers and the latest of stamps. This may have been a side effect of one of his jobs as he rode the rails for the U.S. Postal Service. Henry was a railroad man and a letter writer. He was fond of birds and monarch butterflies. When I visited him in his efficiency apartment with no yard in Albuquerque, he had a stack of my letters, some opera records, and wanted to know if I ever received the postcard with the photo of the cardinal painted on the mailbox.

An excerpt from a letter:

Sunday, November 23, 1986

Would you believe it--I planted over 2000 shrubs and trees on the 60 acres at the Hollow with the aid of an Indian helper. I also bought a telescope and became a watcher of the skies, purchased a pair of binoculars and became a fair to middling ornithologist for a country boy. My immortality will be back there where I mostly planted varieties that would reproduce themselves for thousands of years and where my unknown, unseen epitaph will be at the base of a mighty {stained, unreadable}. I have a few more months before my eyesight completely fails. It is wonderful to know of such events in advance. One sees many, many things in a new, brighte {his spelling} and more beautiful light." Because of the name he gave the property in northeast Oklahoma, I associate cardinals with him and his homeplace. When my grandson was born, another Henry, I saw a cardinal out the window and felt the spirit of poetry and opera my uncle had always loved. A cousin sends this memory of Uncle Henry: "I never had a conversation with him that didn't include him quoting long passages from Shakespeare's plays. He put off having cataract surgery because he enjoyed the personal light show of lights at night - said neon lights were like his own private fireworks display. (If you've had cataracts you'll understand, if not - you won't). Monarchs used to go through St. Louis county when I was a kid. Thousands of them...I remember the very last cardinal I saw, too, it landed on a branch in the winter right outside the window of the classroom when I was a jr in high school. Never saw another one again." Lucille asked if I noticed the bush, Nandina Domestica, next to the rhododendron where the cardinals have been gathering at Bag End Garden. Considered by the Chinese to ward off mother-in-law problems, this particular plant of hers is a relative of the one in the front as a result of tossing branches over the deck above me. The red berries complement the cardinals as though pre-destined. George writes: "My mom loved cardinals. Ever since she passed away, she has made her presence known to family members through ornithological form--very noticeable, as in crossing in front of me when going up the driveway or walking down the bikepath, or driving down the road. And cardinals moved into the neighborhood AFTER I moved to our current home." Will, a longtime birder in New York states, "They have always been here." His favorite spot for looking is The Rambles of Central Park. A quote from an events calendar explains why. "Lose yourself in a 37 acre woodland as your guide from the Central Park Conservancy leads you through a maze of pathways and scenic wonders." I've heard that cardinals are the state bird of seven states and have a tidy repertoire of songs. As I feed the cardinals here at the Shire in North Carolina (one of the states), I ask them if they know a little La Boheme. I like to sing along, of course.

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...may the melodies of our feathered friends bless your day...

Photo Credit: Harvey Doerksen/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service