The Savannah Sparrow
Treading through the pasture a few days ago, after having spent time with Captain Blue, the wind is blowing in my hair, and my hands smell like his mane. I have his lead rope and halter coiled up and slung over my shoulder and I'm sighing and breathing in the moment, the sky is expansive and turquoise blue, there are monolithically tall cumulus clouds starting to form as a portent of a coming Midwestern storm.
A bird darts out from practically beneath my feet, takes flight and banks left, a splash of light browns in my peripheral vision. I look and there tucked under a small Common Milkweed stem, yet to bloom, is a clutch of four painted eggs, nestled in their beautifully constructed home.
This mother has chosen a place fairly well trodden, just a few feet from a well worn path, hoof prints littering the ground. She had 80 acres to chose from and there are 20+ horse at any one time. She is taking some risks here. Yet sometimes in the most vulnerable of places are birthed the most precious things.