Her Name was "Birdie"

Do you think people stay in places and situations longer than they should?

Around four o'clock yesterday a baby bird landed nineteen floors up on my patio. When I initially noticed the flying creature, I did not think much about it. Birds fly, that is a fact. There was nothing unusual about the small bird flying through a crack in the balcony between two sheets of glass and landing on my porch.

My husband and I headed to a movie around seven to conclude the Thanksgiving celebration. It was a chilly night. We started Saving Capitalism on Netflix with Robert Reich before we had to put the documentary on hold to catch our movie.

After the movie, we returned to our posture on the coach to complete the film. From the couch, looking out into the night, the Downtown sparkling with lights, I noticed her, still perched on the balcony was the bird I saw earlier. I slowly walked over to the patio door, gently unlocked it and then cracked it. The small bird did not move. I opened it some more to catch a closer look. Nothing. The winged creature was not afraid and did not move an inch. What was wrong with her? Why was this bird just staring out into the night on my patio? My husband offered up a little advice. He figured that she might have clipped her wing flying in. I immediately wanted to bring her in and care for her. I ran to the refrigerator and peeled off some bread from the Thanksgiving leftovers. I ran back to the door, gently opened it and tossed scraps to my new friend. Birdie did not move. She did not walk towards the food.

"Maybe she's blind." I thought to myself.

"A bit clumsy like my husband, maybe she ran into the glass head first and damaged her eyesight."

It sounds silly now that I am replaying the possibility back to myself. But what was it?

I knew my husband would not go for bringing the bird into the house and after coaxing him into bed, he said, "Babe, please don't bring the bird in the house." I said okay but knew if the baby bird needed further assistance I would do what was necessary.

I tiptoed back to the door, opened it, stepping into the cold night I called out to Birdie like one would do a dog or cat. She ignored me. She still had not gone for the bread pieces. As I approached, she turned and fluttered away.

I was heartbroken. Birdie was fine. She knew exactly where her home was and was merely taking in a different view.