***Note: Perhaps a difficult read for those sensitive to bird-injustices and animal tragedy–Sarah B-Little, this means you!!!***
Little Miss is asleep and Baboo 2 just dozed off on my lap, which means I should theoretically try to lay her down, and finally go and get my shower for the day, but I’m not. Instead, I’m here blogging and why? Because I need the therapy of the sound of the keys clacking down one after another.
So I’ll tell you the bird story.
A few days ago, I was having one of my muddly days. Husband was home, everyone but me was napping, and I decided to go sit out in the sunshine and try to make sense of the swirling thoughts in my head. I took a little snack out and found a nice lush patch of grass in the sun.
I wasn’t in a great headspace that day. I was feeling overwhelmed with the newness of everything right now, and especially with the coming deployment, short though it may be (It was briefing day. How I hate the briefings. They always lead me to feel so fragile.).
On top of that, I was doing my very best introspective ponder life and death ridiculousness.
So I’m sitting there, just hoping for some perspective and peace when I see this flash of fur tear across our yard in the direction of our bird feeder. I focus on the flash and see that it has come to a stop in a precarious position–hanging by it’s front paws from our bird feeder. I watched in frozen horror as it wrestled it’s jaws around something feathery and yellow–one of our beautiful yellow finches which had come to feed.
Finally, the cat’s strength gave out and he landed abruptly under the feeder. The poor finch was left still perched on the feeder… then, it let loose, flew all the way across the yard with it’s last breath, or it’s nerves and synapses firing their last, I’m not sure which, and came to land not 3 feet away from me.
I was all the way across the yard from the stupid feeder. Seriously. It was on one side of the yard, I was on the other. There was a vast amount of space between us. But this poor bird, came to it’s final resting place not three feet from me of all places. It could have gone any direction… could have even landed in another neighbor’s yard. But here it lay, cosmically delivered at my feet. I peered at the bird, hoping desperately that he was still alive… that I could be ridiculous and call the animal clinic and see if there was anything that could be done for the little guy. I looked for an intake of breath or any little movement. Nothing. I so very much hoped… but the bird was gone.
So I sit there, already feeling very fragile, and I crumple into tears prompting Husband to come out in bewilderment to find out what was wrong with his hysterical wife.
And what was wrong with his wife? Well… I gotta tell you it was one of those moments where you feel as if the universe just shat upon you. One of those moments where you wonder to yourself–was there a cosmic purpose to me being here at this exact moment in time to witness this grizzly feline act and the pitiable bird result?
Was God trying to tell me something by delivering this fragile bit of yellow to rest at my feet after drawing it’s last birdy breath? Was their some cosmic direction at work propelling him across the yard straight toward me? And if so… what was the message I was supposed to glean from it all?
I have no idea. I can’t come up with any profound lesson to learn… I can’t in good conscience spin this into a lesson of the fragility of life. It’s possible, I guess, that I was there just to bear witness as someone who would care about the little bird but why don’t other little birds get afforded such dignity? I would surely hope it wasn’t a forboding warning of life to come or of judgement or some other maudlin thing like that. I really just don’t know.
And so, the poor birdy was the first to find rest in our little birdy cemetery. He was joined a week or so later by another finch who succumbed to a fatal ‘bird bonk’ after flying into our window.
And so you see… I really do take myself a little too seriously sometimes. But I still have to wonder at the timing of it all. Don’t you ever do that?
Rest In Peace little, Gold-finch friend. Don’t worry, we’re on the lookout for that kitty of darkness and doom and we shall avenge your feathered friendliness cut tragically short. We are committed to striving to see that no other birdies will have to succumb to such a fate.
Especially less than three feet from me on an introspective and fragile day when I am sitting in the sunshine hoping for peace and perspective. I just don’t handle it well.