There was a small clump of something in the middle of the alley early this morning when I left on a quick errand. When I returned, it was still there and in the better light looked quite a bit like a small bird. I drove over it slowly and carefully, figuring it would either stay safely in its current place under the middle of the truck or participate in its own Darwinian moment. It didn’t budge.

After I parked the truck, I walked back over for a closer look. That closer look indicated that it was indeed a bird. Specifically, it appeared to be a headless sparrow. Further investigation suggested that its head might be tucked under its wing. “Maybe it’s sleeping,” I thought, “though it is a bit odd that it would have stayed asleep with a truck driving over it and with a person walking up to it.”

“Hey, little fellow,” I greeted it, with no thought as to whether or not any neighbors might be witnessing a middle-aged professor attempting to have a conversation with an mentally impaired bird. No response. So, I reached down gently and nudged it slightly with the back of my finger.

His head popped out and he squawked, looked up at me as if in a fog. “Come on,” I urged, “you’ve got to get out of the alley before you become part of it.” No response. Obviously, my little sparrow was in training to become a high school English student. I nudged it again. It hopped. Once. So, I reached down with both hands cupped to pick it up and move it. Apparently, this was sufficient motivation for the little guy to flutter over to the dew-covered grass under some nearby bushes. “Mission accomplished,” I congratulated myself and returned to my garage project.

I had to leave again in a few minutes on another errand. That sparrow was back in the alley. Asleep on the dry warmth of the asphalt. He didn’t even twitch when I drove by, my tires passing within two feet of him. I wonder how often it is that we squawk at those who urge us to flee the coming danger, continuing our slumbering comfort rather than gaining a place of greater safety.

H. Arnett
7/27/09