Curiosity and a Canary: How Ordinary Events Become Extraordinary

The introduction to a book on Andre Gide and Curiosity begins like this: "In the autobiography of Andre Gide, the 15-year-old Andre is walking down a Paris street when he sees a canary flying toward him like the Holy Spirit. It lands on his head, designating him, he believes, as a writer."

The author describes how the young Andre is both curious regarding the canary, and simultaneously an object of the canary's curiosity. This statement from the book's description especially stood out for me: "Curiosity was a credo for Gide. By observing the world and then manifesting in writing these observations, he stimulates the curiosity of readers, conceived as virtual conduits of a curiosity once his own."

Reading these few lines brought several moments from my own life back into view, the first being that specific moment in time when I myself felt called to be a writer.

Other memories also came to mind of encounters with nature, or experiences in which I witnessed something unusual that seemed to have special significance for me. Like Gide's encounter with the canary, one of these involved an encounter with a fawn. The incident occurred in the fall of my junior year at Ohio University, 1973. I'd gone for a walk with my sketchbook as sunset approached, seeking a place to sit and draw. I found a quiet open space that overlooked a vast expanse to the west, hemmed on both sides forest, delightfully peaceful. I still remember the vivid colors of that red and gold sky, the swoop of the valley's architecture, the silhouettes of the trees as darkness approached.

Drawing, like any creative endeavor, becomes timeless when you've lost yourself in it, and on this occasion I must have been in the zone as it were, quietly absorbed in the moment. Suddenly I became aware of a young fawn that had evidently been creeping along the path, curious about this strange person sitting in her way. Her head bent forward below her shoulders, she kept approaching me, tentative and uncertain. Our eyes locked as I studied her face, each of us expectant, though she was no doubt more wary than relaxed.

Suddenly, two rifle shots echoed in the distance and my curious friend became alert but she didn't run. Eventually she sauntered back to the woods in the direction from which she came.

* * * *

I've been re-affirmed by the presence of a dove.

The incident must have made an impression on me because a couple years later I woke one morning with the first stanza of a poem tumbling and swirling in my head, along with the other images from this experience. The poem that I crafted became As A Young Fawn, I, a retelling of this incident from the point of view of the fawn.

During the night as I lay thinking about these things I was also reminded of the story of the Magi from the East written about in the Gospel according to Matthew in chapter 2. These priest sages who had been students of the heavens recognized a star of major significance and connected it with the birth of the anticipated Messiah spoken of by Jewish prophets. The Bible never says there were three, as the song "We Three Kings" suggests. It does, however, acknowledge a connection between nature and our human story, both individually and collectively. There are moments when something breaks through from Beyond that our modern scientific minds tend to dismiss, disregard, ignore.

Bringing this all full circle, the Magi were men whose mystical inclinations made them curious about the greater meaning of things. How they learned about this miraculous birth isn't explained in this passage, its historically documented that Israel's Northern Kingdom had been overthrown by Assyria circa 720 B.C. and the remaining Jews of the Southern Kingdom taken captive by the Babylonians circa 587 B.C. The Magi were undoubtedly familiar with, and curious about, the sacred texts of these peoples. Their arrival in search of the newborn child was no coincidence. 

Psalm 19 begins, "The heavens declare the glory of God." Open your mind. Sometimes a canary, or a dove, is more than just a bird.

Merry Christmas.

Northern Lights courtesy John Heino Photography.