I was in our backyard with two of my grands, trying to distract them from parents leaving.
What they can’t see can’t bother them.
We headed for the pond to look for ducks.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see something with feathers hit the water.
This was no duck. When they fly in, ducks skim the surface and land with finesse. Movement from flying to swimming is smooth. This was a loud “plop”, and this bird didn’t even attempt to swim.
The boys pointed and screamed “duck”. I went close to the edge to see what it was.
A small bird with a head crowned by red feathers was using one wing to try to stay afloat. It swam in a continuous circle, its other wing dragging in the water like a rudder. It wasn’t staying afloat well–its head went under with each rotation, staying down longer each time.
I had a dilemma. I couldn’t go in the water without the boys following me. But I was determined to save the bird.
I clapped and yelled encouragements at the little guy. (No, I’m no bird whisperer.) The ruckus I made caused him to come closer to the side. I prayed he’d stay alive–I was imagining one of the larger basses in the pond eating him.
He made it to the side and rested on some pond weeds. He couldn’t get out on his own–but he fussed furiously when I tried to grab him to bring him out. Yelling at the boys to follow, I ran to the house to find a box.
The guys looked at me like I was nuts.
The box worked as a scoop to get the bird out of the water. When I got him to safety, he wouldn’t come out. His wing seemed useless, but he was wet, a condition that was obviously not his norm. My neighbors Ed and Syl came to help. Ed recognized it to be a woodpecker, and he was able to get the bird out of the box. We crowded around to see him. He wasn’t flying, but he hopped with a purpose–to our big tree, which he then climbed. And hid in the branches.
He showed no gratitude for saving his life. He was put out by us because he had no clue what we would do to him. Fear made him agitated.
I sometimes treat God with that same disdain. He’s done the hard work of saving me from an eternity of separation from all things good and lovely and has provided me with the promise of heaven. I don’t always understand why He does what He does because my circumstances don’t make sense to me.
I become fearful and refuse to listen.
If I could get it through my head that God has my best interests at heart, even in the hard times, I’d be better able to rest in Him in the moment.
If the woodpecker had understood my motives, he’d have trusted my actions.
My new definition for bird brain.