The Companionship of a Stranger

Today’s Word Prompt from the Daily Post: Marathon. The meaning I’m using is : Any long and arduous undertaking.

The more difficult something is to endure, the more vulnerable we are,  that is when safety in companionship really can make a difference, even when it comes from a stranger.

Because thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice. —Psalms 63:7

I held a wild bird again today. I held him for a long time after finding him sitting up, bewildered, inside our wheelbarrow. He’d slammed into our front-room window and knocked himself for a doozy.

I have a long history of holding wild birds. I wonder if they can tell I won’t mishandle them. As those of you know if you read ‘Lil Rebel, I am allergic to birds. I cannot have them in my home and must wash my hands thoroughly after holding them but I do love birds.

Sometimes I’ve caught them because they flew inside an open window or door and couldn’t find their way safely back outside. One time a little hummingbird got stuck between the storm window and the regular window pane. It was crucial he be rescued from his situation quickly because they, I heard, should not be immobile for very long because of their ultra-high metabolism.

Usually the birds that run into our windows recover rather quickly but this one this evening didn’t really seem to want to shake it off and fly. He preferred to just cuddle. I checked him for obvious damage to his neck and wings or his feet and everything seemed okay. His neck was my main concern.

I finally placed him on a sturdy section of an evergreen branch that could support his weight and keep him balanced inside a firm network of needles because he was slow to find his footing even there.

He stayed there on the branch long enough I grew concerned about him and so I held him some more and as I petted him I moved my head and spoke more to check if he would move his head and follow me with his eyes. He did, but slowly.

I placed him on an even better branch and still he didn’t move. For him, I’m sure, this was a long, arduous undertaking. And I remembered how I was when I came to after a severe car wreck. A woman, a stranger, stood beside the vehicle’s door and she was holding my hand through the shattered windshield. That’s all she could do. And it mattered a great deal to me that when I came to she was there holding my hand.

Empathy.

But what else could I do for my hurting feathered friend? Nothing. I really felt that allowing him his space on that tree branch was the best thing for him.

Photo taken by Lenee Cobb

I went inside to get my camera thinking that by the time I went back outside he’d be gone.  He was still there.

I spoke to him so he would know it was me moving around and took a couple shots and no more because of the auto-flash possibly bothering his eyes.

Then, to my joy, he flew away.