The Sparrow
Our chicken coop with its six occupants has apparently drawn the attention of every sparrow on Long Island to come and dine on the feed our daughter devotedly spreads for her chickens each morning.
By watching I discern those little sparrows have learned a thing or two from their Creator. Flitting about from treetop to treetop, swooping down to snatch up a stray chicken feather with which they will feather their nests. Dining, drinking, diving; these tiny things blithely splash around in the puddles left by the sprinkler or an early morning rain shower. Sparrows hop rather than walk on the ground, staying close within their crowded flocks, sometimes squabbling over crumbs or seeds on the ground-the essential tidbits of their lives. Yet, as harmless as they seem, they are fierce protectors of their nests! Brave, intrepid, teeny creatures, I have seen them charge after hawks many times their size! (Hawks…another species our chickens have inadvertently drawn to the coop. Insert grimacing emoji.)
They are also such social little things, flocking together in times of distress as I observed one bright winter’s morning recently. The sun had only just come up as I hurried over to the coop in the chill of the December air to let the chickens out for the day. Immediately I became aware of a sort of ruckus near the coop-sparrows crying and flying all about one certain spot of the chicken wire fencing which surrounds the run. And then I saw why. One little sparrow had gotten himself entangled in the chicken wire. He was flapping his wings and crying to break his heart (well, okay-I mean-I think he was crying-there were no tears or anything…but that is what it seemed like to me…like remember when Peter rabbit got caught under the fence?
Umm…never mind) and about two dozen or so sparrows were in such a state of distress, flying around him as if to exhort him to try harder. As soon as I approached they began to squawk and cry all the louder and then-in a moment-in a flurry of feathers and fluff- all of them flew off and just forsook him there, settling themselves at a safe distance from me in the uppermost branches of a nearby oak tree, looking down in utter silence. The poor little thing was in such a mighty struggle for his life that I wondered just for a moment if there might be some way I could help him. Had my grandson Bear been nearby, he would have easily come to the rescue. But I am a chicken when it comes to birds-the whole wings flapping thing and all, so instead I just stood by helplessly and watched. Within a few moments he finally ceased to struggle and just lay there panting, his tiny chest heaving up and down so rapidly I thought he would explode. Total silence now, not even a peep from the chickens who quietly pecked at the feed scattered near my feet. “Poor thing,” thought I. But then, just as I supposed he was done for, he simply slipped out and freed himself! He soared straight up to where his audience sat perched upon the branches. And there he sat among them- every single one of them in silence now. I looked up at them. They looked down at me. I felt as if had there been a “spokes-sparrow” among them he would have tweeted, “There now! You thought it was all over, didn’t you! Now what do you think of that!” And I would have had to agree.
I decided that possibly my presence was preventing their return so I quickly went back to the warmth of our sun-filled back room. Within a few moments the sparrows lifted off their lofty heights descending on the yard once more and continued to nibble and peck at the tidbits left behind by the chickens, and life, for them, returned to normal.
And I found myself wondering if the voice of instinct placed within that little sparrow by his loving Creator had inspired him to stop all of that flapping, all of the struggle and just calm down and wait. For it was only when he composed himself that he found freedom and quite effortlessly, at that. After all that crying, squawking, and flapping. After all the attention and imploring of his-well, “friends”…but what kinds of friends were they really? I mean they all forsook him! Just flew off knowing full well some stray cat could have come skulking along and finished him off! Thanks for nothing guys!
Nevertheless, I found myself wondering how he got in there in the
first place. However did he get caught in one of the holes of the chicken wire? What was he thinking! That he could just slip through and get away with it? Was he attempting a short cut instead of taking the time to do things the right way? Well, as they say, no trouble like homemade trouble!
Be that as it may, all is well that ends well I suppose. Nonetheless I would imagine that little sparrow was going to have one of the best sleeps of his life that evening! Considering what could have happened-but did not.
Composure, I concluded, was the key. Not to panic or be influenced by those around you who may be panicking for you! To be still-well, at least as still as is possible when your heart becomes your own worst enemy as it pounds and beats away at one-hundred miles an hour and your mind is like someone locked in a room who goes around pushing against every door and window in order to escape.
Yes. Those little beings have learned a thing or two from their Creator:
Stop all of the flapping.
Rest a while.
Compose yourself.
Then remember what you know to be true about these kinds of occurrences:
Some friends help when they stay, others when they leave-your hope is not in them.
Do not be distracted by what you think is going to happen. All of the disastrous outcomes. In particular do not be distracted by what you determine should happen-especially when it does not.
Catch your breath.
Remember Who is in control.
Wait on Him.
“But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:7
Thank you for reading,
Liz
