Feathered Fidelity


Relationships start with love and promise. Too often we see them weaken, crumble, and finally fail. I think all relationships should go with the birds.

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"Mum, what happened to my hockey cards?" I cried. "Mum, I can't find my baseball!" I whined. "Mum, my favorite marble, the blue one, is missing. Where is it?" Tears streamed down my cheeks, as I searched my marble bag and under my bed. "It must have gone with the birds." She replied. Mum said the same thing every time. "It must have gone with the birds."

* ********************************

Forty years later, memories flashed in my mind. I think I figured it out.

I was a young boy. A small yellow bird hit our front door. When I looked outside, I saw its tiny, unmoving body on our deck. I opened the door to see if it was just stunned or worse, dead. I knelt over it. Mum joined me. "Michael, I think it's dead. I heard the bang on the glass. It hit pretty hard." "Mum, should we bury it?" "I'm not sure, Michael. When I first looked out, I saw another bird land beside it and grab it's neck. It was trying to pick it up. I think we should let nature take care of this. Let's put it on the roof of the car and see what happens." We placed the little bird on the roof of my dad's car and returned to the house, where we watched it from our living room window. The bird's mate flew to its side and grabbed the back of the dead bird's neck in its tiny beak. With strength only love and devotion could provide, it lifted its companion from the car, carried the body across the street, over the meadow on the other side, and into the trees. It flew low to the ground, struggling with a weight equal to its own. The little bird flew between two and six feet off the ground, staggering in the air, as it carried its loved one home. The struggle was hard, but the desire not to be parted from its mate was greater.

* ********************************

I stepped from my home on a warm summer morning. I looked toward my neighbor's and noticed a strand of a spider's web. It was strung from the bush by the corner of their townhouse to the wheel of one of their cars. I thought it was strange. "A spider doesn't spin one strand." I said to myself. I reached to break the web and discovered it was a piece of fishing line. I gave it a tug. It was tangled in the bushes. The other end was knotted under the rear wheel of their car. One of the boys sat on their front deck. "Looks like someone booby-trapped your friend's car." I said. He walked to me. I continued. "Strange! It seems to go all the way under the car." I walked around the back of the car and saw a robin. It fluttered to get away, but the line wrapped around its tiny leg held it firm. I reached out. It squawked and flapped away from me. I moved faster on the second attempt and managed to get a grip around its trembling body. It twisted its head to snap at me. I held tight. The boy came close. "Get something to cut the line." I said quietly. "Don't scare it." He returned with a knife. "No, that won't work." I said. "When you cut the line, the tension will break its leg. Get scissors." While he was gone, I heard the agitated chatter of another robin in a nearby tree. It dropped from the branch it was perched on, swooped low over my head, landed in a tree behind me, and continued its racket. The boy returned with a pair of nail cutters. "Will these work?" He asked. "Perfect!" I said.

* ********************************

The robin was free. I held it a little longer. There was still a small piece of line wrapped around its leg. As I reached for it, the robin twisted in my hand and escaped my grasp. It flew low across the pavement, under a row of mailboxes, and up into a tree. The second robin stopped its chatter and joined it. It had stayed close, as its mate struggled for freedom. It wouldn't leave its companion until it was either free or its death separated them.

* ********************************

The birds I witnessed mated for life and the struggles that came with it. Mum used to say, "It must have gone with the birds." She meant it must have flown off. After what I witnessed, "gone with the birds" has a whole new meaning. I think all relationships should go with the birds.

Michael T. Smith msmith4@nj.rr.com

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