The Little Yellow Bird

Just now, about 11 am, I was drawn by a bonk to my window, realizing a bird had flown into it. And then a little drama unfolded. I got there just in time to see the little yellow bird hop onto a branch on the tree just outside my window. His flock-mates were there also, flitting from branch to branch and fluffing their feathers. As I watched drops of water fell from the tree. I saw that what they were doing was gathering drinks and washing their wings in the water that had collected on the tops of the remaining leaves. (The tree has been attacked by insects and also it is now fall).They were tiny birds so they did not need too much water to do the trick.

But as I watched, I also saw that the little bird who had flown into my window was just sitting there, stunned, in shock, hanging on for dear life. He did not jump around like his friends. He could hardly muster to turn his head. Then they all left except the one little bird. By this time, I knew he was in trouble. For some reason, my heart went out to it and started to cry. I tried to cheer it on. He did not move for 10 minutes.

Then as if with great effort, he let go of one leg and moved to a slightly higher part of the branch. I hoped and hoped he would regain some strength. Finally, he hopped a little and finally he took off. But he could not gain any height and did not go in the direction of his flock. Instead he headed for the field, where he landed.

I wanted him so much to fly higher and to find his friends and join them. They had all disappeared. I was afraid he had gone to the field to die and would not be able to come out. But then I saw him attempting small distances, but still low to the ground.

I felt so helpless.