I gazed at a maple tree through my kitchen window on a boring Saturday morning. Suddenly, a small bird, with plain black feathers came into view. It was heading straight towards the maple tree. The bird dove, tucking its wings in and plunging head-first into the tree. It crashed into the tree, flapped around in the foliage for a few seconds, and fluttered out, quivering.  But it didn’t give up. It would dive right back in after every failed attempt. Finally, after several tries, the bird dove in, cutting through the leaves like a knife slicing butter, and emerged on the other side with a worm in its beak. I couldn’t help but stare in admiration as it flew away, battered but successful.