If you follow me on Twitter, you know that yesterday a bird tried to say “hello” to me by way of the ceiling in my bathroom. “Hello” is a more polite word than I would have used yesterday…but it remains what is in my head today.
Yesterday, I was horrified by this tiny monster. Never before had I been afraid of birds. I enjoy their songs in the morning, I leave them food during the winter, I even feed them walnuts at the Audubon Society in springtime. But this “hello” was different.
First of all, it was shocking. I had just begun my daily routine when I hear a scritching and a scratching. I called my husband over and he shone a light upwards toward the sound and I attempted a picture. What I had heard and partially seen, was a beak, which was followed by the entire head of a starling. I hurriedly took a snap and we both beat feet out of the door.
As humans, we are very prone to the reaction of “this is out of place and therefore I cannot understand it.” And, whether we like to believe it or not, it is that strange disassociation with an object or being occupying a space or place that logic dictates it should not be, that terrifies us. Were it to have been outside, a starling would not have scared me, but as it was in my home, I was beside myself. And…in that moment, I thought only of myself.
The rest of the day was spent waiting for help from animal control, furtively moving from room to room. Why was I moving? The bird was following me! It was following my noises from the bathroom to the kitchen to my living room. I chewed the skin on my thumb off, horrified that it might have legions of birds with it. Panicked that it might find other holes to escape from.
By midday, the bird had stopped scratching and in the end, help came and sealed the hole. Today, I have only the sound of silence in my walls. And now that the fear has passed, I am distinctly afraid that I was the help that the bird was seeking…its last resort, and I failed it. I was too afraid to help, and now, it may have given up. It will never see those it loves again…because of me. Because of my childish instincts.
And here I sit, sealed up tight in my house…a possible tomb for a bird that just wanted to fly free. How selfish we can be…how selfish can I be?