Chirpy

It was an hour before my parents were arriving to go out to Bungalow Bar for a Father’s Day brunch when a friend of mine texts saying “There’s a hatchling bird on the cement in front of Key Food. It can’t even lift its head.” My stomach got sick.

I took a few minutes, “Am I willing to go through this?” I don’t know how I often find myself in these situations. Deciding whether or not I’m going to expend the physical and emotion energy in an attempt to save an animal’s life.  But here I was… again. I blindly ran over with a box to get the bird, not showered and not ready to celebrate with my father.

I stepped slowly and carefully once I turned the corner on 90th by CVS. Everyone else was walking fast, not looking at the ground. Any second the bird could’ve been crushed. I spotted him and hurried over. I was shocked at his vulnerability and fetal appearance. He was maybe two days old. The hatchling looked like a miniature prehistoric dinosaur.

I couldn’t find my heating pad so I ran back to CVS but without my wallet – I wasn’t

clear-minded. I went home, grabbed some cash, headed back yet again and started welling up at the register. I was so stressed.

Matt was home but working all day so he watched Chirpy while I was with my parents. My mind kept wandering and wondering about our new hatchling.

We read about feeding and basic care. Using wet mushed cat food on a skewer, we fed Chirpy and he was eating and using the bathroom. I’ve actually done this before. Well, I helped my sister Natalie when we were kids. She saved two birds and feed them in a similar way. Squawker, our crow after his release would come and visit the kitchen window, saying hello (squawk! squawk!) and bringing us little presents. Naively, I thought that Chirpy would fill with feathers, learn to fly and maybe even come back to visit me while I sat outside having my morning coffee.

We determined that Chirpy was a sparrow or a starling. His skin was translucent. It was surreal seeing his chest move up and down. Sometimes the universe gives us an opportunity to take a step back, for me this was a reminder of how delicate and precious all life is. And a reminder that there is a whole world happening around me, outside of my own little bubble.

Things took a turn for the worse Tuesday afternoon – 36 hours after we took Chirpy in. He stopped eating. I tried every half hour,  ignoring all my responsibilities for the day. He passed in the afternoon at 4:35pm. It was exhausting but I have no regrets with Chirpy. He was a special little gift.

RIP Chirpy.