The Bird Whisperer of Southside


Thunk! There is was again- the sadly familiar sound of a bird flying into the sunporch window early this morning. I raced outside to investigate, and sure enough, a beautiful bird was sitting on the rocks by the side of our house.  Luckily, he seemed to only be stunned and not grievously injured.  I gently scooped him up and he fluttered a few feet away to sit on a ladder that had been left out for our construction project. I knealt beside the bird as he continued to gaze at me, and gently stroked his head, telling him he would be okay. His black gaze was so earnest, and I hoped that what I told him was the truth. 


This is not the first time that I have connected with an injured bird. Dan calls me the Bird Whisperer after a string of interesting experiences over the years. The most touching one happened two years ago; the same Thunk!, the same frantic rush to the front yard to investigate. This time, however, the young wren was not so lucky- his wing was broken. I sat and held him in my cupped hands for over thirty minutes, stroking him and whispering words of comfort as tears trickled down my cheeks. He was so beautiful, so perfect…but I could do nothing to save him. I put him in the front garden where the dogs couldn’t get to him and went to school. He was gone when I went back to check. 

Micah…

Then, the strangest thing happened; later in the day, I drove down the alley to my garage at the back of our property, and there was the bird. I have no idea how this damaged creature found its way to my garage…almost like he was looking for me. I thought it couldn’t possibly be the same wren, but it was- damaged wing and all. I scooped him up and placed him on my arm, walking around and talking to him. As he had earlier, he continued to gaze at me intently, but made no move to escape. It was a magical experience to connect with this beautiful creature in such a special way. I named him Micah, and he stayed on my arm for ages. The next morning I found him where I had left him, dead. I buried him in my garden and left a special marker. I think of him each time I work in my garden. 

My friends made comparisons…my nickname is Poppins…

And then…
Thanks, Beth Heffern :))

There are certainly worse things I could be called. I will proudly claim my title as the Bird Whisperer of Southside, helping my feathered friends whenever I can. I am just grateful to have these beautiful creatures all around us here in the city. Such incredible, feathered gifts of nature. They come to share their beauty- and sometimes they come to remind us to show compassion for our fellow inhabitants of this planet in need who walk-or fly-beside us. 


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