Under the Forsythia

Sam and I came upon a severely wounded goldfinch on our walk tonight. He was lying at the edge of the road, next to some tall grass. We almost didn't see him. 

At first we thought at first it was dead but as we stood over him, the bird gave a couple of barely perceptible twitches before laying still once again. It was awful.

This poor thing was going to die and there wasn't anything we could do for him. The best I could do was move him off the road, onto the soft grass and hope for the best - though Sam and I knew "the best" was unlikely. We both felt pretty bad. We both wished I could do more.

Back at the car, I asked Sam if he wanted to check on the bird and of course he did. So we drove over to where I placed the bird and pulled over. I got out to check on him. Sam felt he would rather wait in the car.

Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the bird had died. At least he wasn't suffering - a small consolation in this kind of situation.

I told Sam that we won't just leave him there, that we would take him home and give him a place to rest - which came as a small relief to Sam. I found a piece of a paper towel and wrapped the bird up, placed him in a safe spot in the back of the car and Sam and I and our poor bird, continued on our way.

Back at home, I got Sam his dinner and asked if he wanted to help me with the bird. He preferred that I take care of it. 

So I wrapped the bird up a little more, found a garden shovel and dug a place for him under the forsythia bush - a resting place for several other small creatures that have left us over the years. When I finished, I went in and asked Sam if he wanted to check it out. Sam followed me out and I showed him the spot. His relief was instantaneous. 

He smiled, clapped his hands together, leaned into me and thanked me.

We spoke a little of our relief that this poor bird wasn't left to die on the side of the road; that he was taken care of and laid to rest in a better spot. 

And for whatever it was worth, I mentioned again how I think the soul is a little bit like the flower inside of a seed - and now this bird's soul is out of it's shell, blooming somewhere up above us. 

Sam said "Yeah", but I think it was enough for him to know that the bird wasn't left to die alone, somewhere on the side of the road.