mOOD

THE paTiEnT rEsiliEncE of a sparrow

Sharmila Bertin

The sun is shining its rays down off the walls of my home. My children are active playing, reading, drawing, making up stories, while my husband is busy putting away the things they leave behind. Meanwhile, I'm in my kitchen repotting my latest acquisitions, beautiful syngoniums of different varieties. The music floats in the air like a heady perfume. It is a cosy Sunday morning, one like any other Sunday morning.

Suddenly I hear loud thumping and excited chirping on my terrace. Four sparrows are swirling close to the ground with high-pitched calls. In surprise, I go out to find two of my cats hovering over a baby sparrow they cornered. It was its parents who alerted me. I shoo the cats away, giving the baby bird a moment's respite, allowing it to escape to safety. I watch it recover from its emotions, with its heart beating furiously in its little chest. I don't know how old it is, I haven't had any domestic birds for around 15 years. I'm content with the sparrows that built their nest in one of my windows in 2019, though I know it's still very young from its grey down and yellow-cornered bill. Perhaps this was its first excursion with its parents before it fell into the clutches of my felines. A very simple moment in a bird's life turned into a dramatic experience.

Once the fear subsided, the baby bird came out of its hiding place and tried to spread its short wings. One of them did not want to obey, but it would not give up. Its parents communicate with it, guiding it, while it hops around, responding to them from time to time, and pecking at the ground. Cautiously, my husband placed a bowl of fresh water and I tossed some seeds in its direction. It didn't seem to fear our presence even though we kept our distance. For my part, I couldn't take my eyes off it for a second. If anything were to happen to it, if it failed to return to its nest or worse, I would never get over it. Too bad for the syngoniums, I stayed on the terrace to scrutinise its every move. The mother bird maintained a dialogue with her little one, came to reassure it, to give it a peck, to inspect the beating of its wings. I watched it spread its wings, flapping them, to confirm that it still could not take flight, that it did not have either the strength or the courage. It was not ready. The mother waits, accompanies it. After a few hours, relief finally arrives: mother and baby bird take off together towards their nest.

I felt overwhelmed with emotion because not only was I happy with this outcome and admired the protective instinct of "my" sparrows, but what they had just experienced in one day reminded me of how I feel on a daily basis with my children, from the day they were born until the day they no longer would need me. Another facet of time I was not aware of.

RM 037