Every afternoon, Meekull's cage is rolled onto the enclosed front porch, where he looks out the window for a time at the sky, the trees, birds, squirrels, insects, and occasional cars going by. Meekull normally begins his ritual by happily hopping up to his highest branch closest to the window pane for the best possible view before I turn to walk away. Yesterday, he did just that but immediately hopped back to the branch inside the cage closest to my shoulder. "What?" I asked. He shuffled his little body closer as he turned his head the other way and peered down, motionless, at the window sill. Then I understood but kept quiet. After a moment or two, he tilted his head back up and looked at me like he does when he has a question (Juncos have many human-like gestures). "Oh", I said to him softly. "That's Christmas." He had been surprised when he'd seen his windowsill decorated in ornaments. "It's your first Christmas, Meekull. You're OK. Yeah." He did a little happy dance, checked out the rest of the porch decorations, nestled his mohawk after blinking into my eyes a few times, and flew up to his perch, where he began watching the world outside. Sometimes, even the tiniest of God's creatures need reassurance.
