Anecdote

The Lonely Chirp That Moved Me

He was scrawny and awkward but my heart only saw sweetness

The bare rafters of the barn ceiling yawned above my head. A chorus of cheeping drew my attention up to a tiny bird’s nest. A lonely chirp answered from the floor. As I spied his lonely self, I carefully scooped him up. The cute little castaway had bright eyes but his feathers were sparse and underdeveloped. He flew the coop a little prematurely.

My first day of vacation with my farming grandparents was turning into an adventure of sorts. My little girl heart melted with the need to provide the maternal needs for this little orphan. Simultaneously, my little girl heart raced at the excitement of this baby bird looking at me with bright expectant eyes.

Grandma was surprised to see what I had in my cupped hands. She leaned towards me for a better look, while barely shaking her head. Indulgently, she offered me her warm smile while handing over a tiny bit of left-over egg. Grandma was always in my corner.

I sat with crisscrossed legs in the morning grass with the dappled sun shining on us through the tree’s leaves. The hungry ‘lil urchin let me place a pinch of food in his wide-open mouth. He was scrawny and awkward but my heart only saw sweetness.

We made our way back to the farm kitchen to hang out with grandma. I carried him around in a rag until grandpa came in for lunch. He gruffly voiced his opinion saying, “That thing is dirty. Take it outside.” Grandma gave him a long look, with slightly raised eyebrows. With a short huff, he sank mutely into the kitchen chair and ate.

I took my baby outside and sat on a swing, taking in the wide-open space with the endless blue sky. The fledgling settled in my lap, seemingly content, and we listened to the field of corn behind us as it swayed and sang in the breeze.

Pretty soon grandma came out with a shoebox. Using a small spade she showed me how to turn over the dirt around the rocks to find worms. Everything felt right with the world, when leaning against her, she gave me a sideways hug.

My feathered friend chirped and peeped in his box nest. His beak seemed to overtake his face when it opened in hungry anticipation — and his serious expression made me laugh. I placed tiny bits of worm in his mouth while wondering, “Am I doing this right?”

I settled him in his box with the rag for the night. He quieted. “I’m tired too,” I told him, as I clicked my tongue reassuringly and patted his head, and bid him good night.

In the morning, I enthusiastically dug for worms that I never used. Through half-closed lids, my little preemie birdie only stared.

I knew there was a real reason to be worried when I showed him to grandma. Softly sighing, she slid her arm around me. “Can’t we put him back in the nest?” I wondered aloud. Grandma barely shook her head and squeezed me. “You’ve been a good mama,” she whispered while looking up at the nest in the unreachable rafters.

The day passed and so did my baby bird.

The soil in the garden was soft from the rain and grandma said she didn’t need her rag back. I rocked him with a sweet prayer, then wrapped him and buried him while the sun shone brightly.

I finished the day by feeding the calves and sweeping the corn crib. Keeping busy kept my tears at bay.

Finally, at dusk, I sat for a minute of reflection on the barn floor, looking up. The baby bird chorus put a sad smile on my face.