Sometimes the most profound lessons come from the most unexpected teachers.
I was visiting my elderly aunt at her home in the countryside outside Ocala, Florida, sipping a refreshing mint julep on her back porch while she sat quietly in the shade nearby. My aunt is an devoted birdwatcher and gardener, and her backyard is a testament to both passions—carefully manicured topiaries, vibrant flowers, citrus trees heavy with fruit, and dozens of bird feeders that transform her garden into a bustling avian community.
As I settled into the comfortable rhythm of the cedar rocking chair, I watched the daily drama unfold at the feeders. A large black bird I couldn't identify had arrived, and immediately the smaller birds scattered. It was a familiar scene—the bigger, more aggressive birds claiming territory while the gentler ones waited their turn or went without.
But then something extraordinary happened.
The large bird filled its beak with seeds and flew not to its own perch, but to a group of ti…
