I think I may have befriended a sparrow…a tall and lean, brown sparrow. Whenever he perches atop the deck railing, he always does so with his back straight, making him taller than the other sparrows that I see perch all squat and plump atop overhead wires and picket fences. His lanky build calls to mind Jimmy Stewart, so perhaps there’s a name in relation that will suit him and come to voice.
So this little winged friend…I say friend, but in all reality I could be sadly mistaken, as he may very well dislike my presence on the deck and see me as an interloper who has suddenly begun invading his space…my work does keep me from fully enjoying the deck during day hours for a better part of the year, and I imagine he’s grown quite comfortable during his uninterrupted time…nevertheless, this little sparrow is not fearful of my human presence on the deck, rather he’s curious and ever so vocal. If I go outside to sit for a spell, enjoying a coffee and a book, he’ll fly above my head and land on the railing a few feet to the left of the Adirondack chair, staring at me and chirping incessantly. However, Tuesday afternoon, as I was reading a book, he flew right in front of my face…so close I could feel the breeze off his wing. He then landed on the railing, staring me down and chirping. I looked for signs of a nest or of hatchlings, but nothing to support the idea he was being territorial due to parental instincts. A crow sitting atop a shaded branch in the maple located in the yard across from the deck, hopped out onto a sunny branch and cawed thrice, causing my sparrow guest to go silent and fly away. His absence was short lived, always returning to investigate why a human is present, busying herself with prepping the deck for gardens or sweeping away leaves and pollen that collect in corners and under the bench pillows.
This morning he returned as usual, only I had opted to drink my coffee and read a book at the dining room table, my back to the open French doors that lead onto the deck…the temperate weather and cool breeze that was blowing through my home, scented with sun warmed hyacinth, tulips, and new green was too blissful to ignore…but there it was, his boisterous chirping, so I rose and stood at the door listening to him from his perch atop the frame for the ambient cafe lights. I bid him good morning, he looked in at me for a few minutes more, and then flew off. I decided in that moment to leave him blueberries for breakfast.
It’s midday and he hasn’t returned for his blueberries, but I’m hoping to find that they were enjoyed when I check on them later today. The question is, will it be the sparrow to taste of their sweetness, or Chunk Norris, the stout squirrel that daily visits the deck, leaving behind tell-tale signs of his presence, and who bides his time until summer, when he blatantly ravishes the vegetables and fruits grown in containers, only to leave in their place half-chewed peanuts still in the shell and poorly buried black walnuts.
Spring always brings with it a great many promises and possibilities that tend to carry straight through into summer. Nature and the Universe communicate in symbols, synchronicities, and parallels…and with recent events in my life bearing a weight I need to unload…I’m mindful to the sparrow’s sudden appearance and familiarity being more than just a coincidence.
E. A. O'Connell. April 14, 2022.
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