A few days ago I found a tiny baby bird in my garage. TINY! He was maybe only 2 inches long, no feathers and his eyes weren't even opened yet. He couldn't have hatched more than a day or two ago. But there he was, chirping away as loud as his miniature lungs would allow. I gingerly scooped him onto a piece of paper and began looking around for signs of a nest. We searched high and low. In the garage and out and couldn't find it. His little chirps were weakening, so I squished a passing earwig and dropped it into is open mouth. His strength revived immediately.
So I employed Tate, Allie and a few of the neighbor kids to begin hunting for worms while I did a little research to figure out what to do with this naked baby bird that my heart had completely gone out to. He would need to eat every 20 minutes and kept warm, but my web research also said not to attempt to care for it. Well I wasn't about to put him back where I found him nor was I going to stop until I found his nest either. Perhaps the mother bird would still accept him since I hadn't touched him.
Unfortunately, we did find the nest. I had seen birds flying to an opening in between the tile roof and the rain gutter near the garage opening. So I grabbed a ladder and investigated. In a gust of wind the nest must have been blown from its snug hole because I found the remains of my adopted birds siblings. I can't say exactly why this touched me so much, but I fell in love with this little bird. Mostly I think, because he had more resiliency in his tiny body than most people have in theirs. He had fallen at least 9 feet and then been blown into my hospitable garage, littered with toys. Most would have given up and died, but not him. Instead, with all the strength he had he called out for someone to rescue him.
We did our best. The kids found lots of rollie-pollies (potato bugs), but since they were a little too crunchy I had to do some hunter-gathering. Turns out we had a good selection of small slugs hiding in the cool moist dirt. Our little bird ate greedily every 20-30 minutes although I am no mama bird and even my smallest finger was far to large for him to eat off of. I resorted to either a baby spoon full of slug, aimed correctly and dropped into his open beak or squished onto a medicine dropper and put in his mouth. Needless to say feedings wore both of his out.
By the late evening he didn't seem to be doing so well. I had to resort to a potato bug or two since he'd eaten all of our stock of slugs. I went for one last hunt in the backyard with a flashlight for slugs and then went to bed. I had tried to prepare the kids for him not to make it through the night. And in the morning I was certain he was gone, until Tate said that he was in fact still breathing.
He managed to eat one more slug, but it had been hours since he'd pooped and his belly was swollen. He stopped chirping and a few hours later finally died. We buried him in the backyard in the moist dirt where there were lots of slugs and lay dandelions over his grave. The kids were more curious about the whole thing than sad. I, however, have shed a tear in thanks for what this little bird taught me.
We were once tucked safely away with our Heavenly Father and Mother. Until we fell from our heavenly home and were blown into an inhospitable world. Do we lay down and accept the inevitable? Do we spiritually, mentally, or emotionally give up and die? Or do we call out with all the energies of our souls for rescue? Do we continue to fight, lifting our heads ready to accept whatever blessings the Lord sees fit to nourish us with? Unlike my clumsy hands and lack of ability, Father in Heaven knows exactly how to care for us spiritual infants. He loves us with more fervent emotions, feels more compassionately, and understands more fully than my frail heart ever could.
The most amazing thing I've learned is that despite the vastness of the world, solar system, galaxy, universe....eternity, He has enough love for even his smallest creations. I'm sure I only felt a fraction of compassion and love for that little bird as Father does. And if he loved this tiny bird so much, how much more must he love me and each of us? How much more does he want to us to call to him when we need rescuing? And how much faster will he save?
