baby sparrows

earlier today, emory and evan returned from a stroll holding two baby sparrows. they had fallen from a high nest—one that would be difficult to get them back into. they’re still too young to leave, where found, for mama bird to come down to them until they grow feathers and can fly, so we took them to a wildlife rehabilitator who focuses her attention on birds.

after about a thirty minute drive, with the baby birds reminding us of their needs for the entire stretch, we found the place, and slowly made our way down a long gravel drive. we were greeted by a gentle-looking, older woman. 

she took the babies inside. 

while she was indoors, i looked up and noticed an unusual amount of turkey vultures circling around her home. i thought to make a joke about how they must be birds she’s worked with, paying homage from above…but she returned with a sheet of paper and a no-nonsense focus on jotting down some simple information, so i refrained from vulture commentary and (aside from a few questions, because not all curiosities can be contained:)) small talk, in general.

as we were leaving, i noticed outdoor structures—one housing an eagle, another housing an owl. i wanted to return to her door with more questions, but just stood there quietly for a few moments—taking these beautiful creatures in—asking that their recoveries be quick, and that they do so well upon returning to their freedom, to their land.

being so close to and meeting the gaze of both larger birds had a holy feel to it. i thought, for a second, to take a photo, but there was something about the situation that made pulling out a camera seem disrespectful. maybe it didn’t feel right to document this part of these birds’ journeys without a knowing permission from both, or maybe there was a hesitancy relating to this place not being just a rescue center, but this woman’s private home. once away from the house, however, i did pull over, at the start of the long gravel drive, to capture an image of the metal bird above her mailbox.

driving home, i thought a lot about mama sparrow. 
even though the rehabilitator was doubtful that the baby birds would have made it through a chilly, predator-laden night, i drifted into the sadness of feeling torn between returning the birds to where they were on the ground, hoping that mama sparrow could perform some act of magic to get them back up into the comfort of their nest home…and taking them, imagining that (even if only for a short while…and i truly hope the shortest) she was feeling helpless while watching my babies gingerly pick up her babies and carry them away. 

i thought about how arrogant it is for any human to assume that because other beings or creatures live and communicate in different ways, they don’t experience shades of hurt or loss.

i thought about how nice it is that there are folks who selflessly give so much of their time to take in and care for wild beings—and then return them to the land, whole or as close to whole as they may ever be again.

and, for the rest of the night, this prayer played on repeat: dear god, please be with mama sparrow. please instill within her the knowing that her babies are safe, and that they will be cared for, and returned, free, to the land. please surround her, and them, and all wild beings with love and goodness—always.

and so it is.