June 6, 2021

#13: This little bird reminded me of something important; something I already knew.

Periodically, my wife and I like to take our dog Blue on long walks through our neighborhood. The destination of our trips being a refreshing treat from our local Ralph’s Italian Ices. On our most recent walk, my wife exclaimed, “Chris! Watch out for that bird!” With my head fixated on Blue, I barely had time to pull his leash to the right, steering him away from a bird sitting in the middle of the street.

Reader, almost five years ago, my wife and I met for our first date. As we walked to our New York City lunch spot, we encountered a pigeon, who was awkwardly sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. As people moved from side-to-side, we stopped to help. Simply helping it move out of the middle seemed to do the trick that day. It was that moment, helping a pigeon on the streets of NYC that allowed me to see into heart. I saw the same look of concern in her face for our new feathered friend that I did back then.

She examined and immediately wanted to move it out of the middle of the street. However, she’s currently carrying our baby, and I didn’t want any aves-like bacteria transferring to her. Handing her Blue’s lead and covering each hand with a green poop-bag, I approached the little beaked squatter in the street.

“I think he fell out of the tree,” I called out to her from a distance. Above my head were branches, which I assumed the bird fell from. With my hands covered, I slowly approached, and our feathered friend started to shuffle on the ground instead of taking flight. When my hands were close, the bird hopped in the opposite direction of me. In those movements, I could see an injured wing sustained.

By now, cars were starting drive by, slowing down to reveal inquisitive faces behind the wheels. The bird did not want me to touch it (that was clear), but it was moving towards the curb when I attempted to move closer. The bird and I did this dance until we reached the curb.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” my wife somberly asked.

I nodded my head, and then, we continued our walk.

As of the writing of these words, I’ve thought about that bird at least once day since. Questions like “Is he alright?” would permeate my thoughts. These questions reminded me of something J.D. Salinger wrote about in his now classic novel, The Catcher in the Rye. Throughout the novel, Salinger’s protagonist Holden Caulfield contemplates a group of ducks living in Central Park. Holden brings these ducks up at various points in the novel, and you can find many criticisms and analyses of these moments detailing symbolic representations of childhood and Holden’s mental state.

The first mention of them early in the text has always stuck out to me:

“I live in New York, and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go? I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go? I was wondering where the ducks went when the lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them away to a zoo or something. Or if they just flew away” (Salinger, pg. 18).

Throughout the novel, Holden is projecting himself onto these birds. The character has a difficult time standing on his own two feet and taking care of himself. Many people transitioning into adulthood often has this mentality as well (I know I did), and it’s one of the reasons why this book is still relevant all these years later. Holden sees these ducks as he sees himself and not as survivalists and parts of nature.

Each year, hundreds of thousands of birds migrate all over the world, and during that time, new baby birds hatch and tweet out for their mothers. Their mothers protect them while in the nest and show them how survive for themselves. It is a part of their lives. However, life is hard, and there are hardships along the way.

This particular bird likely fell out of a tree and hurt it’s wing. When my wife turned and asked if the bird will be okay, I just told her what would comfort her best in the moment. After thinking and writing about it, this is what I should have said:

“We helped as much as we could. It’s up to the bird now.”

I would like to think that our little bird friend hopped up onto the sidewalk and foraged for an evening meal. I’d like to think that his wing mended and grew strong. I’d like to think overtime, he flew away from that place and found his family. Ultimately, I’d like to see him again feeding in the distance at my neighbor’s bird feeder; each of us not recognizing the other.

However, there’s no way for me to really know.

This little bird, though, reminded me of something important; something I already knew. It’s important for people to do all they can to help out someone or something else. It just might be the difference between life and death (and in the case of my bird friend, I imagine it was). The receiver of your help takes it and runs with it, but no matter the outcome, your helping hand is important.

Thanks for reading.