Montana’s state bird is the Western
Meadowlark, a lovely robin-size bird with yellow underbelly, and striking
fashion-statement black “v” on its chest.
My first bird-hunting venture with my
father presented me with a rescue of a meadowlark that had been previously
wounded by shotgun fire. The bird had lost use of its right leg and wing. I
tucked it in my jacket and
we brought it home. Hamlet (my young girl’s name for the bird) survived and
gifted us with his melodic song for a number of years.
Birds, symbolically, are often seen as
messengers between the earth and heaven.
Our friend the meadowlark is a musician
of the grassland, its song an amazing series of flutelike notes, which brighten
my heart.
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