Small but Mighty

When the world is stormy and change is afoot, the tiny chickadee shows us the way—finding resilience through adaptation, connection, and glimmers of joy.

Chickadee in graphite, Nona Jordan 2025

Seven thousand five hundred feet above sea level, wrapped in thick insulated blankets against the Colorado cold, I sat on my back deck in meditation as the winter wind stripped the last warmth from the thin mountain air. Erick was deployed in Afghanistan, and I was learning to navigate the vast geography of loneliness that military spouses know so well. The landscape around me matched my inner ecosystem—bleak, dry, seemingly empty of life.

But then, like a burst of laughter in a silent library, they arrived.

A banditry of chickadees showed up on the bare branches around the bird feeder, their cheerful chatter cutting through the starkness of high desert winter. Day after day, no matter how bitter the cold or how gray the sky, they showed up. While other birds had long since migrated to gentler climates, these small, black-capped beings make their home in this harsh place, finding not just survival but apparent joy in conditions that would challenge much larger creatures.

I watched the chickadees every day, transfixed. They moved with such purpose, such curiosity, such irrepressible delight. They called to each other constantly, maintaining connection across the scattered juniper and pine. They explored every crevice, every possibility for food, approaching each moment with the kind of wonder that transforms ordinary discoveries into treasure.

Chickadee, your medicine is welcome.

Chickadees look like they wouldn’t last a minute in any conditions. However, they are the embodiment of small but mighty moxie. Weighing less than half an ounce, they survive temperatures that would freeze creatures ten times their size. Their resilience is breathtaking—they adapt to harsh conditions not by becoming harder, but by becoming more resourceful, more flexible, more ingenious in their approach to living. They're remarkable not just for their hardiness, but for their intelligence—they can remember thousands of hiding places where they've cached food, and they communicate with a complex language that varies by region and context. Social to their core, they form tight-knit flocks (called banditries) that share information, warnings, and discoveries with generosity.

But perhaps most remarkably, they do all of this with an unmistakable sense of joy. Even in the depths of winter, even when food is scarce, even when the wind howls and the snow falls, chickadees maintain their cheerful presence. They've mastered the art of thriving, even when the odds are against them.

That winter, chickadee was my teacher.

As I sat in that thin mountain air, feeling the sharp edges of worry and loneliness, I began to understand what chickadee was offering. Here was a creature that had found a way to not just endure harsh conditions, but to approach them with curiosity and connection. The chickadees didn't waste energy wishing for easier circumstances—they worked with what they had, supporting one another, staying alert to possibilities, and somehow maintaining their essential joy through it all.

I started to soften into their rhythm. Instead of bracing against the cold, I began to notice the crystalline clarity of the air, the way the mountains looked like watercolor paintings against the pale sky. Instead of sitting in isolation, I felt myself becoming part of the larger conversation happening in the landscape around me. The chickadees had shown me that even in the bleakest seasons, there are ways to stay curious, to gather together, and to find joy—not despite our circumstances, but woven right into them.

Chickadee medicine asks us to remember our true nature.

We live in a culture that often equates size with significance, volume with value. But chickadee whispers a different truth: the smallest gestures can carry the greatest medicine. A phone call to a friend. A moment of genuine presence with a colleague. The choice to approach a difficult conversation with curiosity rather than defensiveness. These chickadee-sized actions ripple outward in ways we may never fully know.

Chickadee reminds us that resilience isn't about becoming harder—it's about becoming more adaptive, more connected, more willing to explore the possibilities hidden in every situation. It's about maintaining our essential joy not as a luxury for when things get easier, but as a necessary practice for navigating whatever weather comes our way.

Chickadee’s Invitation

If chickadee has flown into your awareness, you're being invited to remember your own mighty nature even in harsh conditions. You're being asked to consider how you might bring more curiosity to your challenges, more connection that deeply nourishes, and more joy to your days.

The chickadee doesn't fight the winter—she moves with it, finding sustenance and delight in conditions that would overwhelm much larger creatures. She carries her essential joy not as a distraction from difficulty, but as a compass for navigating whatever season she finds herself in.

Chickadee medicine whispers: Adapt to your conditions as needed. You are more resilient than you know. Find sustenance, joy, and connection to help you weather all the seasons of life.