Friday, July 19, 2013

A Little Something New


A couple of months ago I pulled this out of the regular rotation of dish towels. Hanging it up to dry after a launder, I felt how thin the base cloth was becoming. Rather than letting it fall apart, I decided to save it, to save this little scene. This is an inherited hand towel, from my Mom's side, made almost certainly by one of the many, many women who populated her rural small town childhood. And probably from an iron-on print. And it's lovely.

I didn't have any particular reason to use this little scene. I have been considering putting it on the Year of the Snake Blanket, as a kind of symbol on the border that represents the spring/summer/active side of Snakes' lives. But now it might actually just become some kind of journal entry to capture the story of a day earlier this week.

We've been part of the heat wave this week, with high humidity, high heat and clear afternoons full of searing sun. After a day of paper work, we had ventured out, to water the plants in containers. The guy who lives here was on the front porch, I was at the side of the house. I looked up and saw a former student walking up to the house. I called to her- what was she doing here? How nice to see her! Out of my sight was another neighbour from up the street, her dog chums around with our dog. And here's what happened.

My student was on her way to the library, walking by the house, when she saw a nestling on the grass underneath the new sycamore tree on the boulevard just up the street. The neighbour up the street happened to be walking by, saw what was happening and said "My friends [us] will know what to do", and so the two of them came, because WE would know what to do.

I ran to the get the ladder. My student stood to shade the baby, helping the mother who was valiantly trying to shade his featherless body from that hot sun. Mother Robin hopped off, and watched from a few feet away. The neighbour took the dogs into the yard to keep them busy. In minutes we had him popped back in the nest. Mother was back immediately. All day every day since, she was back and forth between our yard (lots to eat, lots of places to catch insects, lots of water) and her nest.

And what did I learn. I am old enough now to know it is a myth that a parent bird will reject a baby handled by a human. I am also old enough now to know that little rescue missions of this kind don't always work. I know that some bird parents are just too young to parent their first nestlings. I know this tree is barely strong enough to hold this nest. I know.

I made a crazy fool of myself, running up the street with my creaky old ladder, climbing dangerously high on that ladder, in full sight of rush hour traffic, and (it turns out) a half dozen neighbours, wearing muddy sweaty old clothes, hair a bushy fright, not to save a bird. I did it to honour the deep compassion of these two young people, my former student and my neighbour, standing there in front of my house, who wanted to do something.

Every day I should be so lucky. This little scene can now maybe remind me of the incredible ways that being in your place, on your street, in the life around you can give you chances to do things as wonderful as this thing we did that day.

14 comments:

  1. A beautiful rescue...I love that last paragraph...

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    1. Thank you Suzanna; such an apt phrase "a beautiful rescue".

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  2. Wouldn't the whole world be such a wonderful place if everyone took that little bit of extra care over each other and the creatures around them? Well done you for not caring what others thought of you & caring enough to help.

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    1. And young people, at least these young people, know they want a beautiful world. It still stuns me how clear and sure they can be about what is right. It was a real joy to see them act on compassion. Real joy.

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  3. would that we were all 'crazy fools' like you! I'm so happy it had a happy ending - I DID think human touch would spoil the bond. I'm especially resonating with your story because this summer I have had the privilege of watching a Mother Robin feed her barely-fledged young, sometimes from as intimate a perch as my kitchen-prep window. I am moved by her industry and the young's vulnerability.

    (this is Dee - look like I might come up as anonymous?)

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    1. It is SHOCKING to me that any of this in-the-wild family raising is ever successful, at all. What a treat to see it; I wonder about the birds' nests whoever made this hand towel had wondered at.

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  4. oh this honouring of your story with the old embroidered cloth is so perfect and quietly heroic it makes me cry

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    1. Thank you Mo; that I managed to get through this little 'happening' without a lump in my throat surprises me. It was their unselfconscious compassion and caring that did it.

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  5. Good on you for saving the birdie, and also for recognising the social bonds that motivated you. Small acts of great importance.

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    1. Thank you Heather; I am increasingly concerned with these small bonds. It is too easy for me to forget how nourishing these ties are, how easy it is to let myself be rushed. Our dog has taught me a lot about this, about just stopping and hearing and sharing. So, yes, "small acts of great importance". We can't do without them.

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  6. love the cavalier images of you that this conjures up in my imagination (all cartoon-y with bright inky colors and stop-animation jerkiness since i really have no idea what you look like in the real world). ha! i simply can't stop laughing! thank you so very much for this delightful bushel of chortles!

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    1. Thanks for stopping by Joe; running up the street with the ladder- a 1950's folding aluminum step ladder, setting it up with the focus of a firefighter raising the aerial ladder- that was easily the most entertaining part. If only there was a soundtrack. That all self consciousness flew away is remarkable to me, a turning point.

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  7. HOW DID I MISS THIS???
    oh!, i read with my mouth hanging open...
    and i always believed that myth about human touch that you just debunked!
    and in those moments, hot and featherless....just to TRY!
    this is beautiful, Wendy. really really BEAUTY FULL

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    1. Thank you Grace; the sincerity of their will to DO something was so striking, so joyful, so powerful. And such a gift to get to buoy that will.

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