I have a tenant in my yard. A sparrow who thought my yard might be a good place to call home and spent weeks building a nest above the light fixture. At first she was afraid of my presence, and ran away as soon as I opened the door, but as the days passed, we became familiar.
I followed the idyllic odyssey of life from laying the eggs, the endless days to hatch them until the newborns hatched, curious little plucked birds that filled my garden with the melodious cacophony of their songs that expressed their desire for life.
One day I came home from work and the yard was quiet. Curious, I looked inside the nest and found it empty. They finally flew from the nest, I thought, and when I was about to enter happy with the news, I looked at the ground and found a small dead sparrow, with its eyes closed, with its tiny wings that had failed, spread out on the hard concrete floor, with its beak open through which his last breath of life escaped.
Too young to die, his life was extinguished on the first flight, I said to myself, stroking his little head with my thumb, feeling sorry for him. I wondered where and how his mother was, will he be sad? And his brothers? I didn't know it, but the feeling stole the smile from my face.
Months later I received a visitor in my garden. The mother sparrow had returned to the nest and I witnessed her diligence in going through the entire process of conceiving life again just like the first time, just as if nothing had happened. The weeks passed and soon the nest was repopulated with a flock of newborns, wild and playful just like the previous ones.
Once again the fateful day of the “first” flight arrived—and I put in quotes first because for birds there are no second chances, it is either dead or alive. I felt overwhelmed just thinking about it if as humans we had to face those kinds of challenges, but for them there is no other way, it is their nature. I figured that's the price they have to pay for living closer to heaven.
That afternoon I came home and found the yard quiet again, and I knew that Was the day. I opened the door with my eyes glued to the floor hoping that this time it would be clean......Unfortunately it wasn't. A baby sparrow was lying on the ground and the nest was empty again.
This fact ran through my head for days, puzzling me about the fragility of life, questioning how we could declare that life is beautiful when you look into the cold face of death.
So I put myself in the bird's dilemma wondering if I would be able to leave the nest behind and risk everything for one and only one chance to take to the skies and live close to heaven.
My answer was, Yeah.
I would say Yeah a hundred times even if I had died on my first flight my 99 previous lives.
My problem was that I was confused. I confused victim with hero.
With those two little sparrows, I didn't bury two victims of life, I buried two heroes who confronted her without fear. And heroes do not deserve pity but honor.
Nothing less than honors.
Two days ago the mother sparrow returned to the nest to bring heroes to this world… :)
M. Ch. Landa
P.S. Dedicated to all those champions of life. Greetings and honor you!
