WE, LIKE BIRDS

The sound of fluttering frightened me when I stepped out to throw a can into the recycling bin. Oh no, it happened again. A bird accidentally flew into our garage, and as with misdirected birds in the past, it was having a difficult time finding its way out. Having experienced this before, I have done the research - reaching out to internet sources and friends for advice and recommendations. 

Of course, the huge garage door was wide open with fresh air and sunlight available just a few feet beyond the opening. It’s right there, little bird, waiting for you to live and fly free! But the bird just kept trying to fly upward, bumping into the garage ceiling over and over. Sometimes it would fly into the space between the open door and the ceiling, expecting an opening, only to get caught again. 

The poor thing was so exhausted and hot that its little beak was wide open and it was gasping for air. I refer to our little bird as “it,” because I didn’t know the sex. However, now that I think about it, this bird was probably a female because her markings and coloring were so dull. We all know that in most cases the birds with the most vibrant and beautiful coloring are usually males. And, with a closer look, my husband and I realized this was a young woodpecker. We could tell by the shape of her head and the way she constantly clung to the sides of posts and bars in the garage, even occasionally pecking at the metal for something to eat. 

We opened the garage door windows, filled a brightly colored bowl with water and a blue bead to make it more noticeable, placed a small tray of bird seed on the car’s trunk next to the water and very close to the door opening; we even placed a long, wooden walking stick to “point the way” to fly to the great outdoors. At my daughter’s suggestion, I tried playing hawk sounds on my phone - she looked terrified and didn’t move an inch - followed by the sounds of every kind of woodpecker I could find. Those did seem to catch her interest, but not enough to try and escape. And, of course, we tried to gently coax her by waving things in her direction, ultimately attempting to catch her in the net of an old lacrosse stick. Nothing. Eventually we had to stop for a while, so she could get some rest and stop literally beating her head against the wall. 

When it started to get dark, we turned off all other lighting except the one on the outside of the house to persuade her in the right direction. We took one last peek before going to bed. She was still clinging to the metal post near the open window. We closed the garage and hoped for the best, leaving the nearby window partially opened. 

I will say that I worry a lot about God’s creatures - probably obsessing more than I should. I’ve written about this subject many times. But this one hit me especially hard. Saving this little bird just seemed like it should be so easy to do - everything it needed to escape (and to stay alive) was right there within arm’s, or wing’s, reach. I resorted to praying. A lot. I prayed out loud, I wrote a long prayer on my phone’s notepad, even adding little bird emojis. I kept thinking of the hymn, “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” and knowing this would only take a split second of God’s time to help this tiny bird, I was sure God would rescue her.

It is not lost on me how closely this situation resembles our humanness at times. Or at least this human. I will try and try to find the right way, on my own, beating my head against the same “wall” over and over, looking for a way out of a situation. Only to find in most cases the simple answer was right there all along  - I just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see it. I imagined God saying, I know exactly how frustrating this is for you. This made me smile and I sent a final text to some of my animal-loving friends before I was finally able to go to sleep.

The next morning I rushed to the kitchen window to see if she was still hanging on the side of the metal post where we had last seen her. She was. Though I was relieved to see she made it through the night, I was very sad at the realization that we would probably have to carry this lifeless creature out on our own before much longer. I walked by one last time before we planned to leave the house and noticed she fluttered desperately to the other side. I tried to just let it go and let God handle it.

One last look as we approached the car…the familiar, small gray shadow on the post wasn’t there. She was gone! I hesitantly checked the floor below, and no sign of her. As we were driving away, I thought I saw her on one of our bird feeders, hopefully filling her belly. I could swear she gave us a look and a chirp of gratitude. I certainly gave gratitude to God; even if God hadn’t orchestrated this escape, all of us “creatures” are quite amazing in our quest for survival and also our caretaking of what has been entrusted to us in this beautiful world.