Reflections on a Bird

Walking back from the dumpster the other day, I happened to look down and saw a bird standing on the ground not two feet from me.

I didn’t know the species, but all wild birds usually fly away when a human approaches.

This one looked at me, glanced behind it, then back to me, but didn’t move.

Could birds carry rabies, I wondered?  Not sure, I eased my nervous way toward the steps away from it.  On the first landing I turned back.

It hopped a couple of times, bent over and took flight; for all of two feet.

That explained why it didn’t flee from me.  It couldn’t, at least not far.  I saw immediately that it didn’t have the strength to hop up, but had to fly up one step at a time, resting for as much as a minute before tackling the next one.

Was it sick?  Old?

I didn’t know, but its journey took it away from me.  The poor thing struggled so much; tried so hard; fought for every foot gained.

I wanted to help, but had no idea how.

If I took it into my apartment, my cat would have finished what something else started.

My thought, then was to see if I could take it to the vet just down the road.

I retrieved an old shoe box from inside my apartment, and hurried back outside.

Nothing.

I searched for nearly ten minutes, but couldn’t find it.

And I wanted to find it.

In the end, I could do nothing but leave the poor bird to its fate.

I’ve thought about it every day since, wondering what lesson I can take away from the experience other than the obvious.  Nature can be as cruel as it can be kind. 

That, I already knew.