She sat on the ground outside my hermitage window, a mountain
bluebird, dressed in grays and cobalt blue. She was still, stunned, and
deservedly so - the thud that drew me to the window, along with the cluster of
tiny silver feathers plastered on the glass, were evidence that she at the very
least had to be seeing stars. Slowly she turned her head down and to the
left - an awkward, un-birdlike movement. I saw no right eye, just a
sliver of a line where it used to be. No wonder she crashed. A
one-eyed bird wouldn't have the proper depth perception. Or maybe her eye
was healthy until the crash. I had visions of it now, shoved back into
her skull. Either way, can a one-eyed bird survive long in this wild
world?
I know that a stunned bird can eventually come to - I once saw
one fly away, hours after hitting a window. I told this beautiful bird
that I would stay with her as long as it took, but I would do it with glass
between us so as not to increase her stress. We sat in silence and stillness;
I called in all that healed from earth and sky, and she... well, I don't know
what she was doing, but she appeared to be drawn inward, never complaining to
her friends as they came and went around her.
Eventually, she turned her head again, and I saw that her right
eye was open. It looked fine, but I had no way of knowing if it had
sight. About an hour after the gut-sinking thud that initially drew me to
her, she took off, flying only a few feet into the nearest tree. I
whooped and hollered, as happy as I had been the day my daughter took her first
steps.
In the pine tree, she sat completely still, while her feathered
friends flitted between branches. I watched until she flew from the tree,
and I lost sight of her.
Two years ago, I sat in this same hermitage watching mountain
bluebirds, pine siskins, and sparrows drink and bathe in the water bowl outside
the window. Feeling stunned after the recent deaths of my dad and
my beloved dog, Buddha, along with the cancer diagnosis of my husband, I spent
hours each day watching the birds. They stayed with me as I recovered
from my crash into a wall of grief. It
felt good to now be able to offer a little in return.
2014 Carol Barrow
