A Bird Adventure

Another bird kamikazied into our dining room window this morning. I heard the “whack!” and looked up to see orange feathers stuck to our window. This was not good.

feathers on window photo by scott

We usually have sun-catchers suction-cupped to our window to let the birds know there’s glass there, but our cat had swiped them all down. I went to get more suction cups for the window and then came back and looked to the ground to see if the bird had landed down there. I saw him immediately. He appeared to be on his back, and I could see he was breathing.

I went outside to check on him. When I got to him he was right-side up – maybe he always had been – and his eyes were open. He was watching me. “It’s alright, little one,” I cooed to him. “It’s okay. Hold on.” I went back inside to look for a box to nestle him in – and found my husband was one step ahead of me. He handed me a small box as I came in the door, I grabbed an old dish towel, and back I went to the little thrush.

“All you can feel is what Love feels. All you can know is what Truth knows. All you can be is the perfect reflection of God,” I told him, as I scooped him into the box and gently covered his body with the towel. He didn’t tweet or chirp or cluck or struggle against my efforts – but he kept an eye on me as I brought him around the house and set him on top of the barrel on the front porch.

little bird who flew into our window

It’s just above freezing here, and I figured the little bird must be cold – maybe in shock – and needed some warmth. As I was talking out loud to myself – trying to talk myself through what I needed to do for the bird – my husband found a small metal water bottle, filled it with hot water and handed it to me. I took it to the bird and nestled it down next to him – hoping it would keep him warm. And now I was thinking the bird would probably like to be able to see his bird buddies in the back yard, so I brought the box through the house and out to the back deck. I set the box on top of a broad shelf, brought the little thrush a bottle-cap full of water, and went back inside to get the dog to take her for a walk with me. I needed to give some prayerful thought to this situation.

As Sam-Dog and I walked around our neighborhood I thought about the bird – held him in my thoughts as an expression of God – always held safe in Her care – loved, protected, cared for.

When Sam and I got back to the house I went out to the porch to check on the bird. His eyes were bright and alert. I opened the towel and he fluttered his wings and took off! He landed on the wooden railing of our porch and looked at me for a moment. I clasped my hands together and said, “Oh! I’m so happy!” He looked at me a moment longer, then pooped, and flew off and landed on a branch on the tree outside our dining room window – where his adventure today had begun.

Life is good!

varied thrush bird this one 1

Two Earthworms

I came upon two earthworms on the sidewalk today –
their noses suspended in the air, frozen by the heat
of the sun – dried out and stiff
and I reached down and plucked up the first
and carried him to the dirt.
I dug a little hole for him and covered him
with earth – a grave to bring him back to life.
Gently I used my fingers as tweezers and pulled
the second worm from the sidewalk
and lifted him to the moist soil, laid him down,
and covered him with a wet leaf.
Fare thee well, my new friends –
May you revive and spend the rest of your days
happily leaving a trail of rich earth in your wake.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, earthworm lover

“Patience is symbolized by the tireless worm, creeping over lofty summits, persevering in its intent.”
– Mary Baker Eddy


The Great Rose Bush Rescue

Last spring on my walk through the neighborhood I noticed a rose bush growing up amongst the weeds and tall grass at the side of the road. It was kind of scraggly-looking, but it had cultured-looking leaves and a plucky little crimson rose dangling from one of the branches. It looked to me like the rose bush must have been forgotten and abandoned when the owners of the nearby house had moved out the year before. I was tempted, then, to dig it up and bring it home with me, but the house was up for sale now, and I figured it wasn’t my place to remove the rose bush. I really hoped, though, that whoever moved in would find the rose bush and recognize its value and nurture it back to health.

Months went by, the house remained uninhabited, and one day I noticed everything on the side of the road had been shaved off – including the rose bush. I could no longer find even a stubble of it. And then signs of a construction project began to appear there – heavy equipment and gravel and vegetation rolled flat. I kept an eye out for the rose bush – but could find no trace of it. I’d just about given up hope of ever seeing it again when, a few days after the heavy equipment arrived, I finally saw a twig with a rose leaf hanging from it sprouting out of the mashed-up blackberry vines and grass. I quickly scooted home, returned to the rose bush with a bucket and shovel, and dug her up.

By this time it was September. September is not the best time to dig up a rose bush, but I knew if I waited even another day that little rose bush would be toast. (I was right about that, too – the next day big concrete slabs were sitting in the place where the rose bush had been.) So I brought the rose bush home with me and prayed to know it as the idea of Love – held forever safe in the consciousness of Love.

And look at her now! 🙂


rescued rose