Instinct

  How my eyes saw the tiny one I do not know. They have struggled all week to see numbers and words not three feet from my face. Yet, while house cleaning, looking out the window, I saw him. I went outside with my camera and he did not fly away. He turned after the picture, looked at me and took flight. 


A single migratory sentinel keeping watch while the others scampered along the ground. I do not think he knows how small he is compared to the hawk that hunts in my yard. I do not think he realizes how small he is compared to even the tiny red squirrels that do not like to share. No, he stands his post, unafraid, watching. It is, you see, his instinct to believe.