Bohemian Avenue #10
Three strips of bright green plastic had blown into my yard while I was taking in the sunshine and the cool breeze of a spring morning. I had been contemplating what yard work needed to be completed now that the snow was gone when the color caught my eye. I picked them up before sitting on my front step to finish my tea.
I have a bird feeder hanging from a tree that manages to hold up under the weight of chipmunks and squirrels who love the seed as much as the little sparrow pecking at some spilled seed in the grass at that moment. I noticed the sparrow fly off with a piece of twine, which reminded me of the plastic I had picked up.
I looked at the three pieces of shiny green. They had been looped as if they had held a rolled newspaper or magazine. I untied them and braided them together. It made me think of the bracelets the kids like to wear. I draped it over my knee and watched the little sparrow as she made off with various scraps of things from my yard.
She seemed a cute little thing, and I decided that I liked her especially since she seemed to be helping me with my yard work. I watched her as she gradually drew closer to me.
I glanced at my knee and saw that my braid had fallen to the pavement by the toe of my shoe. As I reached to pick it up, another small tanned hand was reaching for it as well. I looked up into a pair of big brown eyes in the head of a brown-haired girl of about twelve years old.
I drew back, and the child kept glancing between my face and the green braid at my feet.
“You can have it,” I said gently.
With what happened next, I was sure I had to be dreaming. The green strands were swept up in a flurry of feathers and were gone. The girl was nowhere to be seen either.
All morning, I kept thinking about what had happened. Was the girl also a sparrow? As Tim Allen said in “The Santa Claus”: Tomorrow, I'm getting a CAT scan! I really didn't want to be crazy. To keep my mind from thinking further along this line, I decided to continue with my yard work.
As I was raking the backyard, I remembered someone from work who claimed he had a girlfriend that was also a crow or something.
It turned out he lived only three blocks from me. Since it was now after ten o'clock, I thought I'd go pay him a visit, and maybe ask about this crow for a girlfriend of his.
When I was standing in front of his house, I realized I couldn't remember his name. As brazen as you please, I looked at the mail in his mailbox. Thomas Mayfield was the name. 0k, I remembered we called him Tom at work.
I rang the doorbell and rapped three times on the door for good measure. It was a habit from being a paperboy as a kid. You had to be persistent in your collections or you would have to eat a hundred newspapers. No one on my route could claim they didn't hear me because the doorbell didn't work.
Tom came to the door in a t-shirt and athletic shorts. His hair was sticking up on one side, and I could actually see the sleep in his eyes. At least he recognized me right away.
“Tom, can I talk to you about something?”
With only a raised eyebrow and a more alert attitude, he asked me into his kitchen and offered me fresh coffee.
When I broached the subject of his having a crow for a girlfriend, he put his coffee cup down and looked at me. “She not a crow. She’s a red winged black bird. Crows are more unpredictable.”
“I think I believe you, now.” I said.
“What? About crows? You’ve seen a bird person?”
“I think so.” I replied. I proceeded to tell him what had happened to me that morning.
“So, what do you want from me?”
“You have a relationship with one of them. I thought you could tell me how to befriend my sparrow girl.”
“Whoa. First of all, they are very secretive and will disappear forever at the slightest chance of betrayal or unwanted discovery. My own friend would fly off and not speak to me for days if I even hinted she was anything but a normal girl. This secret is something magical and we are graciously trusted to keep that secret or never share in it again.”
“Your blackbird, or all bird people? How do I gain her trust?” Am I encroaching into Tom’s private fantasy world? Or am I really being drawn into some secret magical reality? Have I already lost it?
“Look,” said Tom, “if she’s really trusting her secret to you, you’ll see her again. Just let her come to you in her own time.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I can tell you. All I have said is really a theory based on my own experiences. I don’t know the sparrow people, and I couldn’t even ask Jenny about her own kind. Relax. If she appears again, enjoy what friendship you can make and don’t press for more than she’s willing to give.”
Walking home, I thought about all I knew about sparrows. It wasn’t much, but I figured if I saw a bit of bright green in a nest somewhere, I’d at least know where she lives.
I have a bird feeder hanging from a tree that manages to hold up under the weight of chipmunks and squirrels who love the seed as much as the little sparrow pecking at some spilled seed in the grass at that moment. I noticed the sparrow fly off with a piece of twine, which reminded me of the plastic I had picked up.
I looked at the three pieces of shiny green. They had been looped as if they had held a rolled newspaper or magazine. I untied them and braided them together. It made me think of the bracelets the kids like to wear. I draped it over my knee and watched the little sparrow as she made off with various scraps of things from my yard.
She seemed a cute little thing, and I decided that I liked her especially since she seemed to be helping me with my yard work. I watched her as she gradually drew closer to me.
I glanced at my knee and saw that my braid had fallen to the pavement by the toe of my shoe. As I reached to pick it up, another small tanned hand was reaching for it as well. I looked up into a pair of big brown eyes in the head of a brown-haired girl of about twelve years old.
I drew back, and the child kept glancing between my face and the green braid at my feet.
“You can have it,” I said gently.
With what happened next, I was sure I had to be dreaming. The green strands were swept up in a flurry of feathers and were gone. The girl was nowhere to be seen either.
All morning, I kept thinking about what had happened. Was the girl also a sparrow? As Tim Allen said in “The Santa Claus”: Tomorrow, I'm getting a CAT scan! I really didn't want to be crazy. To keep my mind from thinking further along this line, I decided to continue with my yard work.
As I was raking the backyard, I remembered someone from work who claimed he had a girlfriend that was also a crow or something.
It turned out he lived only three blocks from me. Since it was now after ten o'clock, I thought I'd go pay him a visit, and maybe ask about this crow for a girlfriend of his.
When I was standing in front of his house, I realized I couldn't remember his name. As brazen as you please, I looked at the mail in his mailbox. Thomas Mayfield was the name. 0k, I remembered we called him Tom at work.
I rang the doorbell and rapped three times on the door for good measure. It was a habit from being a paperboy as a kid. You had to be persistent in your collections or you would have to eat a hundred newspapers. No one on my route could claim they didn't hear me because the doorbell didn't work.
Tom came to the door in a t-shirt and athletic shorts. His hair was sticking up on one side, and I could actually see the sleep in his eyes. At least he recognized me right away.
“Tom, can I talk to you about something?”
With only a raised eyebrow and a more alert attitude, he asked me into his kitchen and offered me fresh coffee.
When I broached the subject of his having a crow for a girlfriend, he put his coffee cup down and looked at me. “She not a crow. She’s a red winged black bird. Crows are more unpredictable.”
“I think I believe you, now.” I said.
“What? About crows? You’ve seen a bird person?”
“I think so.” I replied. I proceeded to tell him what had happened to me that morning.
“So, what do you want from me?”
“You have a relationship with one of them. I thought you could tell me how to befriend my sparrow girl.”
“Whoa. First of all, they are very secretive and will disappear forever at the slightest chance of betrayal or unwanted discovery. My own friend would fly off and not speak to me for days if I even hinted she was anything but a normal girl. This secret is something magical and we are graciously trusted to keep that secret or never share in it again.”
“Your blackbird, or all bird people? How do I gain her trust?” Am I encroaching into Tom’s private fantasy world? Or am I really being drawn into some secret magical reality? Have I already lost it?
“Look,” said Tom, “if she’s really trusting her secret to you, you’ll see her again. Just let her come to you in her own time.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I can tell you. All I have said is really a theory based on my own experiences. I don’t know the sparrow people, and I couldn’t even ask Jenny about her own kind. Relax. If she appears again, enjoy what friendship you can make and don’t press for more than she’s willing to give.”
Walking home, I thought about all I knew about sparrows. It wasn’t much, but I figured if I saw a bit of bright green in a nest somewhere, I’d at least know where she lives.
posted by praiseage at 7:46 PM
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welcome back to blogworld!
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