Flashback

Since I did nothing of note today, I’ll regale you with a flashback.

When I was about 10 years old and living in Beavercreek, I found a baby robin on our back patio that had fallen out of the tree. Most will not believe this because I do not to show it (and because it would seem to clash with some of my views) but deep inside I have the heart of a pansy, tree-hugging liberal.

I couldn’t leave it there. So I picked it up and took it to my parents. They looked at me holding this baby robin that couldn’t have been more than a week old and knew it was as good as dead.

But they were good parents. They called the Aullwood Audobon Society http://www.audubon.org/local/sanctuary/aullwood/ that was across town to see if they would take it. They said they wouldn’t unless it was at least a certain number of weeks old. So we had to take care of it to make him last.

I named him Tweety. It’s a terribly unoriginal name but it seemed perfect for obvious reasons…he was a bird. Tweety barely had any feathers or down or whatever baby robins have. He wasn’t particularly attractive at all. He was basically two ounces of skin, legs, little wings, a beak and goofy eyes. We kept him in the garage in a shoebox, with a hot water-bottle and some washcloths to keep him warm. And during the night I’d have to get up about every couple hours to feed him.

The Audobon society gave us pointers on what and when to feed him and how to care for him. We would feed him small pieces of bread dipped in milk or water. That little bugger could eat. He was loud, too.

Now, I doubt I was always the one getting up to feed up overnight but I did a fair share of it. I would come home from school and he’d be the first thing I checked on. I really developed an attachment to Tweety. He was loud, ate a lot, interrupted my sleep and pooped a lot (a byproduct of the eating, no doubt). But I loved him.

And he lived. He made it the few weeks we had to take care of him. I remember driving him to the Audobon society and giving him to them. I knew he was in much better hands at that point but it was still difficult. I remember repeatedly telling them his name so they would know what to call him…so he would feel comfortable. I was also really proud at what we’d been able to do for him. I could have left him there to die. But I couldn’t leave him there. My parents could have been unsupportive. But my parents were great.

I know Tweety has long since passed to dust and while many of the details of that experience have faded over the past 20 years, I still remember how I cared for that little guy. And my heart still breaks when I’m washing my car at one of those self-wash places and I see the remains of a tiny little bird that has fallen out of a nest above.

However it reminds me of Tweety and how I learned at age 10 how I could help make a small difference. And sometimes I feel ashamed at how I don’t always take that lesson I learned and apply it to myself in my life today.