Stricken Birds All...

     I am the sole and founding member of the ‘Walking - Special Interest Group’ of the Lonely Hearts Club of Alexandra – our motto – “Don’t walk alone!”  I was walking alone early one morning and saw the body of a little bird on the road. He had been hit and apparently did not make it to safety in time. This is a common scenario around these parts – the birds and animals are so comfortable with human presence and vice-versa that they sometimes cross paths in tragic ways.

     This bird looked like it had just fallen asleep in a slightly uncomfortable pose. I bent down to see if there still was life. I could not quite tell. I grew up in cities most of my life and was always hesitant to touch strange animals or birds. As I knelt down to get a closer look, another morning walker came down the road, from the opposite direction. We said ‘Hello, Good morning!’ and she asked, “What is it? Is it still alive?”

“I am not sure,” I said, “Can you tell?”

     The lady knelt down beside me, unhesitatingly put her hand over the bird gently and held it for a second.

“Looks like, he’s gone. Poor fella!” she said softly.

     There were a few moments of silence and then we both heard the little sound, barely though - a sad chirp or cry as a bird might make - coming from among the hedge on the side of the road. We went towards it and saw another bird, barely alive, on the ground, its feathers a bit askew. This was surely the mate or companion of the one that lay dead a few yards away. They might have been foraging on the road or even playing together and probably narrowly missed the chance to escape.

     My fellow walker moved towards the injured bird. It tried to move and get away – it could not fly and could not walk either, just limped and fell sideways. Maybe it was just me, its eyes and expression seemed to indicate both the natural fear of human proximity and a helpless resignation and acceptance knowing one cannot get away.

     “Come here, you. Let me look at you,” the lady gently murmured to the bird, picked it up with an entrancing, embracing motion and brought it up. It was as if she was cuddling a little baby.

“I’ll take it over to the vet’s and see if anything can be done,” she said.

“The veterinary clinic is closed now and opens later, doesn’t it?” I ventured.

“No, I’ll take it to the vet’s house. I know her.”

     She started to walk back in the direction she came from. I continued my walk alongside her.

     We chatted as we walked. I was a relative newcomer and the walker had been lived around here much longer. She had seen me around town with my kids and I too had seen her with her family. While I am sure most people around town knew about the knocks of life that my family was going through, she was polite, tactful and did not let on too much. She asked me what brought me here to Alex. I told her, briefly, about my plans for life here. She said some encouraging words about life and people in town. When I asked her about herself, she shared a bit of her own life in a matter-of-fact way. It was clear she had surely been through much worse and had taken it in her stride. She still ‘struggled’ taking care of her fractured family and was working more than one job to support others, but seemed confident, in control and was taking life head on.

     We reached an intersection and the lady with the bird said, “I shall turn off here and take this to the vet’s to look over. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m glad you came along to help this bird. You have a good day.” I continued my walk.

     There is something tragic at the sight of a stricken bird – helpless, looking like a vulnerable little baby. It stirs us humans from within. It brings out a protective urge, to save, to do something! It was how I had seen my own children, looking like a couple of stricken birds, a few times in recent years, when they were dealt harsh blows by their fate, beyond their control.

     As I saw this person carrying away the little bird, it struck me - she is not unlike that bird herself! Neither am I. In some form or the other, we are stricken birds, one and all, - even our greatest antagonist.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2012

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