Most people dream about having power, some understand being a leader brings greater responsibility. Understanding the relationship between power and responsibility can be found just outside your back door.
Our back garden needed a makeover. We had a dilapidated shed in one corner whose sloped roof had slid so that it was half hanging off. Inside we stored old pots of paint, broken chairs and anything else that didn’t mind being rained on. The shed took up a large part of our small garden and dominated the view from the kitchen. It had to go.
We emptied the shed, demolished it by hand (very therapeutic!) and then set about building a new fence along the back edge of the garden. With the leftover wood I built a pergola in the corner to add some height. On the front of the pergola I hung a bird feeder - the back of the garden seemed the best place.
Over the next few months I added plants to the area which had been cleared and the garden flourished into a green oasis that we never thought would be so easy to achieve.
One summer evening I was at the kitchen sink washing up. A family of sparrows were sitting on the pergola taking it in turns to go down to the feeder which swung underneath. I felt that sense of satisfaction in seeing other creatures enjoying the place I had created. It is a kind of affirmation that your work is good if wildlife is coming to the place you have built.
As I watched closely I noticed some squabbling going on between the birds. There was a definite pecking order and some members of the family were pushing those boundaries to try and some seeds ahead of their turn.
One sparrow spots one of the three perches is free and goes in to feed. A more senior sparrow on the pergola sees this and dives down to press their authority. The junior sparrow instinctively gives way, flies from the feeder to a branch of a rose bush.
At first I was impressed by the birds’ speed and nimbleness. As the sparrows darted to and fro’ the feeder they landed each time so quickly and precisely, like the dexterity of a magician.
Then I considered the rose branches. Knowing the branches are very thorny I thought about the birds’ feet making a landing between each thorn. That must take some effort to plan but, given it was so instinctive, it must involve some learning and prior knowledge. Before taking off from the feeder the bird already had in mind the best branches to go to. Just like how you don’t think about where the toilet is in your house - you get up and instinctively walk towards it.
This lead me to the simple realisation: the birds know my garden better than I do.
The birds know the best plants to visit for bugs, the location and angle of branches, even the position of thorns on the rose bushes. Of course they know this - they spend far longer in my garden than I do.
I spend most of my life in the house or at work in my office. The birds live the garden, it belongs to them more than myself, even though I own the garden and my name is on the land registry. Much like a king owns land that is inhabited by people. The land is owned by a king, ruled by a leader but it belongs to the people.
Understanding the relationship between leader and subject is an important step to life satisfaction.
The birds accept the changes I make in my garden and don’t complain when their favourite bush is removed. The birds get to enjoy the landscape and planting changes I have made. Maybe that means they appreciate the work I’ve put in.
In return I respect the wildlife by not turning my garden into a concrete slab. I get to choose what changes are made, it’s hard work at times but that’s the responsibility that comes with owning a garden.
In my life I am the subject. I let those in power make the necessary decisions, provided they don’t make my life untenable.
Meanwhile, when I want to feel like a king, I go out into my garden and make decisions on which flowers no longer please me and which plants I’d like to introduce.