Remember the little cardinal I mentioned in an earlier blog post? Well, I’ve named her Emily D. Why? Like Emily Dickinson, she has everything she needs and wants right where she is.  She is now big enough to fend for herself but prefers to spend her days hiding among mint and rosemary, peering at the world.

The other day I watered the plant she has taken up residence in, flushing her out in the process. On strong wings Emily flew to the rim of the garbage can, squawking with mouth wide as a mason jar. Mother arrived, seed in mouth, landing on the fence behind her. Together they flew over the fence, and I sat with book in hand, a few feet away from her home, waiting to see what would happen next.

First came mother, peering around the house with her sunflower seed, then cautiously hopping to Emily’s house. Once there, she flew in, dropped off the seed, and flew out.

And here came Emily, arriving first underneath the car, hop, hop, hopping around the wheel. “I know you,” she seemed to say. “You’re alright.” She then hopped alongside the house and to her pot where she promptly flew in. Now this pot is right by our back door, so she is accustomed to racket, but it doesn’t seem to phase her. The kids play basketball a few feet from her home and she doesn’t stir. You can’t see her there, but if you rattle the leaves she will dart out before making her way back in.

I could be wrong, but I think her plans are different from other birds. She takes in the world right where she is.

Emily Dickinson did also. The material she needed for her inspirational poetry was right on property. Without leaving the nest she flew. Beth in little women was a homebody, too. She couldn’t understand why her sisters went off into the world to discover themselves. Everything she needed and wanted was right there.

I suspect the bird version of Emily Dickinson will be around awhile. Seeds are close, the huge pot shaded. Neighborhood cats are not onto her, and even if they were she could fend for herself.  Why the mother still feeds her is a mystery.

But then so was Emily Dickinson.