I was walking on my break just a few minutes ago and I found a beautiful little bird sitting on the concrete walkway in front of the mattress king. He looked like he was on a beach or something—just looking around inquisitively, so innocently, so present. I felt his vulnerability in that moment. I wanted to do something to help, but I did not want to intervene too much and cause him greater harm. I reached to pick him up and he flew a few inches from me. Again I tried and he moved again. I felt I needed to move him. Just sitting there… so tiny and alone… someone was bound to step on him and kill him instantly. I finally caught him in my hands and walked down the walkway to set him down under a tree. I set him down to the ground but he still perched on my finger as if he did not want to get off. I was touched. “I adore you too, little bird. But you’ll be safer here than with me.”
I set him down beneath the branches. I walked away—knowing nature knew what she was doing more than I did. Still I feel a deep connection to this little creature—his vulnerability in a concrete jungle, his beautiful innocence, his physical beauty resonated with my soul. He seemed oblivious to his plight—just curious and so quick to drop his prejudices about me as I helped him to the ground and he looked gently back at me.
His fear was different from mine. His stemmed from the immediate surroundings—the strange and gentle giant that picked him up and set him down and the giants walking past that might have stepped on him. My fear for him looked ahead at the coming weeks of cooler weather, the uncertainty of being out here all alone, all the many dangerous possibilities that he might encounter.
But there he was as I left him. He seemed to be hoping for the best—alert, curious, resourceful.
As I walked away, I felt thankful our paths had crossed.
