A Bird In the Hand Is Worth What?

I got up a little later than usual today.  Shaking off the fog of sleep, I did what I always do first -- made my bed.  As I went around to the other side of the bed I heard my cat romping in the living room.  Looking through the entry into the living room I saw him joyfully throwing something up in the air.  (He often does this with his toys....he loves to play catch with himself...it's really cute to watch.)

So I got dressed for the gym, went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth.  I smiled as I heard Stewie (my cat) playing with his toy.  Time for a light breakfast before heading to the gym for a much-needed workout, so I walked into the living room, seeing Stewie rolling around on the floor with his toy....Wait a minute!  The "toy" definitely fluttered.  Stewie dropped it and stood there looking at his toy.  It lay very still now.  Looking more closely, I saw that it was a tiny bird  - a REAL bird.  It was just barely alive.

I was horrified.  Stew had brought a truly-dead bird into our home just a week ago.  I had wrapped up that little guy in a paper towel and put him in the trash bin outside.  It was pretty upsetting!

But this was worse.  The little thing was still breathing, but not moving.  I picked him up gently and looked at him (her?)  There was no visible blood or other wound.  Thinking that this little bird would surely die, I wrapped him up carefully and placed him in the waste basket under my kitchen sink.  I thought he would just quietly die there, unmolested by my cat.  I'd think more about it as I exercised, and figure out whether or not I needed to do something else with his remains.  Then, with some reluctance,  I went to the gym.

After my workout I went to the grocery store, remembering several items that were needed.  Small baggies seemed like a good idea.  Then I drove home and immediately went to the kitchen to check-on the bird.  The cupboard door was ajar.  "Oh no!" I thought.....Stew must have found him and eaten him..... oh yuck!   Then I saw movement inside the waste basket and a definite fluttering of wings.  He was alive!!!

Once again I picked him up, and he lay perfectly still in my hands.  What to do with him?  I decided to let him go, but needed to be sure it wasn't anywhere near "Stewie the bird cat."  So I walked outside, crossed the parking lot and beyond the cars into a grassy area bordered by a tall, vine-covered wall and thick trees on the other side.  I tossed him as far as I could, expecting to hear the impact of his landing on the other side.  But, to my amazement and joy, the moment he left my hands he began to fly.  He didn't look injured at all.  I guess he was just stunned by being held captive first by a cat, then put in the trash by a human.  He flew beautifully, up, up, up, over the trees, disappearing from my sight.

That was one tough little bird!  I'm not sure what, if anything, I learned from this experience.  I will need to really ponder this awhile.  It did make me think, immediately, of some very wounded people I know.  People who have been severely tossed around in life.  They are scarred and afraid, and at times seem to have no life left in them.......but perhaps that's not true.  Maybe they will "fly again."  We need to not give up on people who are wounded by life - whether with physical illness, or overwhelming depression.  I hope I will always handle them gently, remembering the little bird today.