Perception

Spring seems to bring nature front and center. I am fascinated with the zesty parade of new growth, but even more so with the renewed parade of animals and birdlife. An obviously pregnant Mrs. Skunk waddles through the neighborhood, limber rabbits playfully act out their seemingly choreographed dance, and snow geese blanket pastures. Our backyard has its own specialties including increasingly adventurous antics of invigorated grey squirrels and the distinct courtship rituals of Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal and Mr. and Mrs. Woodpecker. What a treat.
I have had a ritual since childhood of seeing how early in March I can spot the first returning robin. Once that threshold is crossed, robins quickly become passé and I seldom pay much attention to them. They become a fixture so established that I barely pay any attention until they mysteriously disappear in late autumn. One day “poof, they’re gone” or so it seems. It’s not a big loss, only a footnote, because robins are fixtures that almost seem attached to green grass.
I am a fisherman. I think I can safely use that terminology because I know you can call someone a “shopper” who doesn’t purchase anything. I briefly considered digging worms for the first day of trout season but, based on my recent lack of success, the thought passed quickly. I have difficulty finding worms even in my rich compost pile. As I sit here typing and absentmindedly glancing out the window, a robin about fifteen feet away catches my eye. She seems to make eye contact with me to insure I’m watching. Once my attention is engaged, she gives me a motherly lesson in finding worms. She briefly tilts her head as if to hear a faint whisper from hidden worms. Then from the whole acre of ground she does a seemingly impossible “needle in a haystack” trick. She “hears” and retrieves a big juicy night crawler from its dark haven. Not only did she find it but she deftly pulled it out in one piece, a trick that I’ve yet to master while searching with a flashlight on those humid summer nights. To insure I got it, she quickly moved short distances away several more times to repeat her successful performance. Such amazing hearing, especially to someone challenged in that area.
Fascinated, I consulted my ever faithful Google for more insight. I quote from Wikipedia: “The North American Robin forages primarily on the ground for soft-bodied invertebrates, and finds worms by sight, pouncing on them and then pulling them up. [14] Nestlings are fed mainly on worms and other soft-bodied animal prey. [7]The Robin is frequently seen running across lawns, picking up earthworms by sight, and its running and stopping behavior is a distinguishing characteristic. It hunts visually, not by hearing.[14]”
Oops! Mrs. Robin had deceived me. She used my own astute ability to draw conclusions based on intent observation to trick me. If she had asked me to repeat her performance I would have been there listening for a worm forever, at least till my neck couldn’t stand it anymore. What else could that slight “listening” tilt of her head indicate? I guess I’m relegated to more remedial instruction on another chapter in my course on “not leaning on my own understanding.”