I was on the way to the shed. Walking through the yard. I saw something in the grass. It was fluttering in the weeds. I could see its wings.
I squatted for a closer look. It was a bird. Lying on its back. The creature was kicking its legs. The mouth was open. A shrill squeal was coming out of its open beak. It looked scared.
So I turned the bird onto its side. I thought maybe it was just stuck on its back. But the bird was still crying. You could tell something was wrong with its neck because the bird couldn’t seem to move its head.
When I picked up the creature, I didn’t mean to but I started crying. Because I could see life draining out of its small body. I could hear its faint cries getting weaker.
“Sssshhh,” I said, wiping my own tears.
And I couldn’t think of anything to do but stroke its little breast and touch its tiny head. I realize I was probably terrifying the creature, but I’d like to think it could sense the love I was feeling.
“I’m sorry this happened,” I said, with streams rolling down my face. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
The bird quit kicking its legs and its eyes were blinking progressively slower, with long pauses between each reopening.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just rest.”
I saw one of my neighbors in their yard.
“What are you doing?” they called out.
“This bird is dying,” I said.
My neighbor smiled and edged away from me as though I were Anthony Perkins. But I was too busy at the moment to care. I knelt in the grass and watched the bird’s life expire.
“Ssshhh,” I said.
The bird’s squealing finally ended. Its cries were silenced, its legs quit kicking, its black eyes closed. I used a spade to dig a small hole, and placed the bird into the dirt.
I covered the miniature grave with soil, patting the mound with both hands. And I don’t know why I was weeping. I still don’t know why.
It’s just that there are times in my life when I feel so unimportant and unloved. When I feel like nobody sees me. When I feel alone. But today, I know this isn’t true.
I’m not alone. I am not unseen.
I know this with all my heart. Because today I saw a sparrow fall to the ground. And I felt like Someone was watching me.
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Death is one of life’s lessons on a ranch. Smaller birds often fall in the horse troughs. I scoop them out, give them a massage to get things going and shake the water out and put them in the sun. More lived than died these past several years. Baby birds fall from nests and sometimes reacclimate to the nest but it is a crap shoot. Coyotes have become emboldened and come into our old barn. They feast on the chickens. There is only one remedy and it is painful to do, but they must be stopped… Domestic dogs are the biggest problem locally, notwithstanding coyotes…Death is one of life’s lessons on a ranch. You never get used to it and you never should…