Sitting in our big east window this Thursday morning, our large macaw on my shoulder, I can't help but notice the barrier between wild and tame. I can smell his powdery dander, feel his smooth feathers against my face, and hear his gentle mornings clucks and kisses. He mostly focuses on me and only occasionally notices the flurry of activity outdoors. On the other side of the smooth glass pane, cardinals, blue jays, crows, and so many other birds are in swarms today. Zooming through the abundant sunshine, hunting breakfast, swirling patterns of love and freedom in the clean January sky.
The smallest birds are like specks compared to our huge blue and yellow baby, but despite his size and despite his massive hook bill and sharp talons, he is the most vulnerable of them all.
Not two minutes after writing this,
Pacino had returned to his cage
and a very small, fat, gray and brown bird
crashed violently into the picture window.
Pacino jumped muttered seriously, "Uh-oh. What happened?"
Apparently domesticity breeds some compassion.
I thanked my lucky bird-Momma stars that he was safe in his gilded cage,
perhaps a little less vulnerable than I a moment ago believed.