A Sparrow

08/08/2009 by Steve Tierney.

A Sparrow
Please note: This post is nothing to do with politics. I just wanted to share it. This is an absolutely true story and I am telling it very much word for word as it has always been told to me.

A long time ago my cousin’s fiance died rather suddenly and tragically. It was a big shock to the whole family, but a particularly awful shock to my cousin. As you might imagine she was inconsolable.

The day after his death she was sitting in her bedroom in about as dark a mood as it is possible for somebody to reach, when a baby sparrow flew in through the open window and landed beside her on the bed.

Surprised, she tried to pick the bird up, expecting it to fly away. It didn’t. She was able to cup it in her palm.

She phoned the RSPCA and asked their advice. They said that if it become separated from its mother it would likely die. She confirmed she had looked around and couldn’t see any sign of a nest or other birds. The RSPCA guy gave her some info on caring for a baby sparrow, while advising her that the bird would probably not survive.

My cousin looked after the baby sparrow. I suspect it gave her something to do, something to take care of, somewhere to pour the grief that was threatening to overwhelm her. She hand fed it every day. It found a place on top of her wardrobe it liked to sit, chirping merrily. It would fly down and land on the bed by her when she was in the room. It would still sit in her hand.

With the bird getting bigger it was soon able to fly right around the room and was leaving a healthy series of “specimens” on top of its wardrobe home.  My cousin had become rather attached to the bird and for reasons I am sure I do not need to spell out here - part of that attachment was a kind of wistful wonder. But she determined that the bird really needed to be set free.

The next day she opened the window and waited. The bird flew over to the sill, looking at the outside world. Then it beat its wings and flew away.

A couple of minutes later it was back. It fluttered into the room and found its comfy place on her wardrobe again. And that was the last time the bird ever chose to leave.

My dad spoke to my cousin yesterday. The sparrow still lives there, ignoring the open window although it is regularly available. It has a plush cage (with the door removed so it can fly free) on top of the wardrobe. It’s now been with her for fourteen years and counting. (That’s a very long lifespan for a sparrow.)

Different people respond to this series of events on different levels.  Some are scornful.  Some sad.  Some of them take a quasi-mystical view.  Some get very into the psychology of it.  For myself, I have always just been charmed by the story..  I hope you were too.
  
  

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