December 15, 2022
from Bill Hudson, head of school
Nearly every day, I see a flurry of activity on the treetop outside my office window. It seems to be the place for several female cardinals to congregate. While less showy than the male cardinal, they have a beauty of their own. Somewhere along the line, I heard that cardinals are a sign of our loved ones that have died. I take solace in that idea and think of my dad. Whenever I spy a cardinal, I am reminded of my dad’s unconditional love for me and how he patiently accompanied me on my journey toward a better self.
The cardinals outside my window also remind me of the poetry of Mary Oliver. Her book, “Red Bird” begins and ends with poems about, what else, red birds. In the first poem, “Red Bird,” the poet is grateful that …
“Red bird came all winter
Firing up the landscape
As nothing else could.”
The fiery red of the cardinal against the snowy whiteness of winter can be startling. It can jolt me out of the day-to-day drudgery of the cold and wet weather to see anew the beauty of winter. In the final poem of her book, “Red Bird Explains Himself,” Oliver shares with us that the purpose of the red bird is “to be the music of the body” because our bodies need “a song, a spirit, a soul.” The red bird has been sent “to teach this to your heart.”
When there seems to be an endless online feed of discord and division, the red bird breaks through winter to remind us of the goodness, love, hope, and life right before us, that may not always be noticed. As we depart for winter break, may you spy a red bird, and may the fiery red be the jolt you need to see the goodness of others and the world around us.
Have a wonderful winter break!
Red Bird
by Mary Oliver
Red bird came all winter
firing up the landscape
as nothing else could.
Of course I love the sparrows,
those dun-colored darlings,
so hungry and so many.
I am a God-fearing feeder of birds.
I know he has many children,
not all of them bold in spirit.
Still, for whatever reason—
perhaps because the winter is so long
and the sky so black-blue
Or perhaps because the heart narrows
as often as it opens—
I am grateful
that the red bird comes all winter
firing up the landscape
as nothing else can do.
