Like A Bird

We had a guest the other day at work.

It waited for me in the restroom, sitting on the little shelf under the small mirror above the basin…a little sparrow that looked me right in the eye as I entered.

A double take.

I thought I was imagining things. But, no. It was real enough and right there. And it wasn’t that little. By general sparrow standards, it looked fine in size. Maybe even larger, for I had never seen one this up close.

Our meeting was a little too close for comfort.

The breathe came fast. The chest rose and fell in quickly. The eyes were wide and moving rapidly.

And that was just the bird. Just a little bird who was clearly scared (bird poop everywhere!) but unable – or unwilling? – to fly away, seemingly lost.

Confusion, questions.

What was it doing here? How did it get here? Why doesn’t it go away? Why is it staring at me?  Does it consider me a threat? Do I ‘shoo’ it away? Can I ‘shoo’ it away? What if it bites me out of fear? How will I go about my business now? I will have to step closer to it to wash my hands? Yikes! What if it bites me out of fear? Can a bird bite, in the first place? Should I go get someone? Why doesn’t it fly away? Is it hurt?

I stood there, locked in a staring contest with that little winged creature. A minute passed; then an eternity. Gulp. Self-motivation. A it’s-more-scared-of-you-than-you-are-of-it speech to self.

The story becomes unglamorous here. I went about my business quickly, too aware of the little beady eyes that were still on me. Once out, I let someone in the office know about a bird sitting on the shelf so that they could remove it. Gone in a few minutes; let loose into the wide world. A bit of (angry) chirping in the vicinity indicated that it might have been a baby (although it didn’t look like it).

This encounter was indeed a little too close for comfort. This is how I look and feel often, I have realized. Too often.

Like a little bird caught on the wrong side of the nest. Like that bird sitting on a little shelf above a bathroom sink. In a situation that I am unable to handle or control. Unable to decipher, even. Fearful; my breathe coming fast and shallow. Not trusting anyone I encounter nor my own self. A sitting “duck”.


Err…I mean…chirp chirp.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s