This morning, as I’m running around doing some crazy cleaning in my loft apartment, something furry-like plopped right into a bed of petunias in my planter outside. Of course, I didn’t have my glasses on. So, to me it looked like a furry toad had just jumped into my bed of flowers. Yet, it was somehow able to fly (I’ve quite the imagination without my glasses). Still, I wondered what the heck is that?
A bird chirped loudly underneath the standing planter that held the little creature. It was bouncing up and down in a search for something all over the balcony. Chirp, chirp, chirp. It eventually flew away making that same loud chirping noise.
I crept slowly from the kitchen and into the living room to see what all the chirping was about. I got a better look once I was closer to the balcony door. Then, I could see it (whatever it was) still there and blinking slightly as if it were tired. It had a soft cotton-like material floating around it’s head, the kind of feathery material you’d see in a nest.
Right around Mother’s Day, I filled my planter with pink and white petunias, impatiens, violets, and what I call “fairy flowers.” I couldn’t wait this year to plant some blooms and set up my new hummingbird feeder, an airtight one.
I stepped closer to the little creature, curious why it hasn’t fled like the hummingbirds if I get too close. I slid my glasses on and in front of me was not a toad or a weird creature, but a little baby bird.
The other bird chirping madly must have been the little one’s mom. She was trying to see where it had went off to, not knowing the little stinker plopped just above her into a bed of petunias.
At first, I panicked. How am I going to help the mom find its baby when she just flew off? So I called my own mother for advice.
She told me not to worry, that “its a baby but knows how to fly. It got itself into that bed of petunias, it can get itself out.”
There was nothing to do besides watch and wait. I pushed my couch close to the balcony door and kept my eye on him. He must have been really sleepy because his eyelids fell over and over again. I couldn’t help but worry for him. I could hear the mother chirping around elsewhere. Why isn’t the baby chirping back? Does he not want to be found?
But then, a loud helicopter was above, and a man was mowing the lawn down below, making quite the loud noise together. The little baby’s eyes were wide. What a great day to learn how to fly, right little guy? I guess he had to learn eventually, and might as well be today.
When the loud noise was off in a distance I saw his mouth open, not like the real young ones, maybe he was yawning? Chirp little guy, chirp already so your mom can find you. But he just sat on top of those comfy petunias, content.
As I watched and drank my coffee, I could hear the mother’s chirping grow louder and more frequent. She’s trying to find you little guy! I knew what he had to do.
He had to fly.
Chirp, chirp, chirp he finally called back. I smiled sipping the last of my coffee. His wings flapped slow and uncontrolled. My cat watched him and jumped on the screen, kicking her feet and trying to discourage him. But he kept trying. He chirped back the same song just like his mom. Then, he jumped and flapped his wings to the floor of the balcony.
He was just a little guy standing on his own two feet, petite beak, and bland-colored feathers. He bounced around, seeing his potential of being mighty. He sang and flew off into the wind.
The little bird got me thinking.
We are all born with wings, just like this little bird. We can choose to hide, or we can use our natural born wings and sing loudly. We can fly off with the soft summer breeze and grow stronger with each day forward.
Maybe this bird was simply taking a break from learning how to fly. Maybe he wasn’t actually lost from his mom. But I’ll remember him as the little bird chirping in the petunias that I planted last month. The petunias grew with each sunny day and each time I watered them, they grew more and more abundant.
It’s a nice reminder to see how far we’ve come. But it’s even better to know that we have wings and wherever we fly or hide, we always have the potential to get back up and fly on.