The Sparrow
A tiny arc in the circle of life
Oh, little one, I am so sorry.
I knew the hunters were airborne when I refilled the feeder, but I didn't know the local hawk was using me as its personal duck blind.
Suddenly the cold didn't matter. I sat on the compacted white mound I'd so meticulously crafted earlier, cupped your still-warm body in my bare hands. I cried, my tears melting tiny holes in the snow bank.
So brave. Even with the damage, you tried calling to your mate, to warn her of the danger. She is safe for now, huddling in the brush with the rest of the flock. I see your hunter hunched in the maple, waiting for me to set you down so he can claim his rightful prize.
I will stay with you till the end.
You can't fool me. I know you no longer feel your body any more, not even the racing of your tiny heart against my fingers.
I keep saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, over and over. Not my fault, I know, though my bird seed attracted you and your kind, and my window glass dealt the lethal blow.
Your hunter is getting restless. He wants me to stop interfering, set you down and go about my stupid human business. I can hear talons shifting, a rattling fluff of feathers. Puffs of snow drop from a nearby pine and land on rabbit tracks with a soft shushhh.
Your head droops, your eyes glaze. Our breath mingles, freezes. Goodbye, fierce one.
About the Creator
Meredith Harmon
Mix equal parts anthropologist, biologist, geologist, and artisan, stir and heat in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, sprinkle with a heaping pile of odd life experiences. Half-baked.
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Comments (4)
This is really lovely.
Oh man. I've been here with little creatures although not with a predator waiting. I was really moved by this, Meredith. Really moved. I like it when the sparrow hawks dive and knock themselves out on the glass as I feel like they're being punished and thwarted hopefully, but I'm always glad when they recover too. They are, after all, just looking after themselves but the little sparrow? So sad.
My response tends to be the same, even as I know that the hawk must eat, too.
Little Sparrow. Love this story