Nor Any Sparrow Fall

There's not a lot of biodiversity in the city, but, what few animals live here do so in great numbers. Sparrows, for instance. They find lots of food and multiply accordingly. In the afternoon on just about any day of the year but especially when it's warm, they surge in and around shrubs and bushes, chirping like a church chorus in full throat. There are thousands of them.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

Last year about this time, I heard one morning particularly loud chirping coming from right outside our front door. I took a look. There on the step, cowering in the corner of the brick half wall that shields the steps from the street, was a baby sparrow. It wasn't fully fledged, but could make the short flight from our step to our neighbour's step and back. It obviously did not have enough lift to get itself back into the nest it had fallen out of.

The baby sparrow seemed scared and utterly helpless. I closed the door.

I Googled "sparrow fallen from nest" and read many stories about people finding baby birds. The best thing to do, if you can find it, is put the baby bird back in the nest. The worst thing to do is to take the baby bird inside, feed and water it and turn it into a pet. Peering up the sheer face of the townhouse's east-facing facade, I couldn't see a nest. There wasn't much I could do.

That little bird preyed on my mind. I worried it would starve, or would be eaten by a cat or a raccoon. I worried about the anxiety its loss was causing its parents. I put out a shallow dish with water in it so it would at least not suffer from thirst - if, that is, it knew how to drink from a dish.

Every morning for three days, it chirped outside our door. We would carefully step past it, slowly so as not to startle it, when we entered and left the house. 

Then it was gone.

That experience sensitized me to the noise of birds on my step. More than once this spring, I've pulled the front door open, fearful there would be another baby bird to consume my thoughts and make me feel like a bad person.

But it was a false alarm each time. 

Until this past week. I heard loud chirping. I opened the door to reassure myself that there would not be a baby bird there - and, goddam it, there was a baby bird!

This one was bigger and had more feathers than last year's fallen sparrow. It could fly to the top of the half wall surrounding the step. 

This time Bruce put the dish of water out.

It was gone after one day.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen