The forgiveness of birds




A recent lovely spring morning found my young pup fascinated by something on our backyard’s ivy-covered slope. He’s an adventurous little tyke and loves exploring our rambling, wooded lot in rural Agoura. Distracted by garden chores, I ignored him as he continued to poke about.

Then a pair of Say’s phoebes— small flycatcher birds with distinctive dark hoods—seemed to decide to play with the mischievous pup. He reveled in their noisy fussing and when they gave chase, chirping and flailing their wings, he deemed this a great romp.

At least this was my misguided thinking.

Their “romp” went on for some time, from one end of the yard to the other, then the pair of phoebes retreated, only to restlessly fly about rather than alighting. The pup dashed past me with something in his mouth.

The realization that something was terribly awry—that this was not any game—struck me like a lightning bolt. I gave chase and commanded the pup to “drop it!” A dazed fledgling fell to the ground. I raced for gloves and scooped it up. As I ran about desperately looking for the parents and their nest I came upon the fledgling’s two siblings in other areas of the yard. It was too late for them.

Horrified, I wailed and cried floods of tears. The pup, who is acutely sensitive to sharp words, cringed when I picked him up and rushed him inside the house. I couldn’t find the right words to convey to him how I condemned his actions other than “Bad, terrible dog!” He hid under the bed. I wanted to hide, too, but went back outside.

Say’s phoebes build nests in elevated, dry sites on ledges, rock walls or buildings, according to the Bird Friends website. Their tragic error was in mistaking an outcropping of small rocks on the ivy-covered slope for a safe ledge. When I located the exquisitely crafted nest, I buried the two deceased fledglings inside it. By then a crow had snatched the dazed survivor before I could figure out how to reunite it with its parents.

For 24 hours I could not bear to be around the pup except to serve his needs as his caretaker. I worried for the parents, how they must’ve been grieving to lose their entire family because one foolish human was not paying enough attention to what her foolish pup was up to.

It was unbearable to enter the backyard. Finally the next evening I ventured out, holding the pup tightly in my arms. There was a pair of Say’s phoebes flitting in the backyard’s big oak. They peered down at us curiously, then flew to the garden fountain for a sip and finally occupied themselves hunting for grubs on the undersides of fallen oak leaves.

Through all their activities they remained in proximity to us as we sat on a garden bench.

They did not swarm us or scold us in bitter tones or spurn us by flying far away. They were not seen scratching frantically in the earth near where their vulnerable nest had lain. They accepted what had happened and continued to beautify our backyard with their charm, grace and chittering voices.

I did not feel for a moment we deserved their forgiveness but was immensely moved and grateful just the same to feel that the phoebes had nonetheless extended it to us.



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