Friday 15 January
How did my day go today? What difference did I make to the world? I would like to say that I’m a reflective person, but I’m not. Not to the extent that I would like to be anyway. That’s not to say I am not conscientious or driven.
At the moment mental and physical fatigue (with a sprinkling of “I’ve survived another day”) prevents me looking back on my day and asking what went well? What would have been even better if?
I achieved some good things and fell somewhat short at others. I suppose that’s being reflective? But the best thing that happened to me today was an accident which I witnessed, simply by being at the right place, just at the right time. A potentially disastrous misfortune of another living thing. A stroke of luck.
It was late morning as I walked down the corridor at work towards the back door. I happened to be on duty at that time. The solid blue door leads out to the playing field and car park. It has an oblong half-length window running vertically, just off centre, from top to handle. Just as I reached for the push-button switch to unlock it, there was a dull thud, and a small, dark shape struck the narrow pane of glass. I thought something had been thrown.
Tentatively, peering through the window, I could see the disheveled and twisted shape of a small bird. It was frantically struggling to find it’s true form, all wings and tail feathers. Clearly disoriented, fluttering and slipping between the metal strips of the shoe scraper. If the heavy door was opened by anyone, not realising the bird was there, it would have been fatally mangled.
Fortunately, I had heard its little body hit the door. A few seconds earlier and I wouldn’t have. I would have opened the door not knowing it was on the ground in trouble. A few seconds later, I would have left the porch and walked out and around to the front door, leaving the concust little creature vulnerable to who knows what?
Carefully, opening the door just enough to slip out sideways, I gathered the anxious blue tit up in my cupped hands. Arching my thumbs around its nape I used my elbows to nudge my door entry badge against the reader, unlocking it. Moments like this don’t happen often. An opportunity to see something so flitting and distant, so close up. It’s head lopped slightly to one side, and I feared that it would not recover.
I waited a couple of minutes and watched its beak repeatedly open and close and felt it’s heart pounding against my fingers. It was moving it’s head a little better and I went to share the wonder with others. Then within a few minutes we were outside, a little rescue party, hoping to see the fragile little thing fly off. I urged it on to a small branch of the hawthorn hedgerow. Then that magic moment.
It sat there for about thirty seconds just looking towards me, a couple of breast feathers still a little misplaced. It chirped it’s unmistakable blue tit chirp. At me. Then hopped a little deeper into the hedge, still visible through the leafless, twiggy network. And in less than a minute it flew off in the direction of many more blue tit chirps.
On reflection, what an amazingly brilliant, fantastic day. For me and the bird.
The Bald Birder 