A Bird on the Sidewalk

I came across this adolescent bird on my morning walk recently. Its sibling was lying dead nearby on the sidewalk. This bird was clearly still alive. It didn’t move when I came in close to take a picture, but neither did any nearby parent bird swoop in when I crouched down beside it.

I’ve read that young birds will leave the nest before they’re fully able to fly, and that confuses me. Why leave a place of safety before you’re ready to fully function? It must work for the birds as a species, or they would die off. But what advantage can there be to hanging out at ground level, where so many more predators can get at you?

I’ve also read that we should leave such birds alone when we see them, so that’s what I did. I took my picture and passed on by. But it was hard to do that. It was difficult to walk on and do nothing beyond wondering whether that bird will survive to full, flying adulthood.

Sometimes it’s also difficult to watch adolescent humans learning to navigate the world beyond their nests. I think of the equivalence between birds flying and teens driving. Both are dependent on their parents until they’ve got their license to fly and the means to do so. And unless we are their parents or in their vetted social network, we are discouraged from interfering in the process.

That can be difficult—but also freeing. There’s no way I can get to know, much less support, all the adolescents in my neighborhood. Yet I can pay careful attention to any who show up in my path. I can discern whether I am called to notice, pray, and walk on by, or if I’m called to reach out and develop a more substantive and supportive relationship.

For years, I’ve periodically asked this question: What is ours to do? I expect it will never go away. As you reflect on those who show up in your path these days, what is yours to do?