Lately I've been reading The Shaping of a Christian Family: How My Parents Nurtured my Faith by Elizabeth Eliot. I smiled at this anecdote that she shares about her father:
Wherever we went he watched for birds. He wanted so badly to give to each of us the love he had for those beautiful creatures ever since his teen years...He gave each of us a special bird call that he used instead of our name if we were at a slight distance away, in another room, across the street, or in the backyard. Mother's was the chickadee; mine was the wood peewee. As I write, it is springtime on the coast of Massachusetts and the wood peewee has come back for the summer. From time to time the tiny three note call rings pure and clear from the oak wood next to our house, and I want to run and say "Yes, Daddy?"