Freedom

That little bird that somebody sent……….

I was on the couch yesterday afternoon, writing; it was getting on, that lazy late afternoon feel, the hours of rain had started to ease, but everywhere was wet, soaked, dripping and I’d left the door ajar in case the old ginger cat came by again. Anyway, as I sat there writing, through my thoughts, through the door, from the kitchen, came a noise. I didn’t take notice at first, there’s so much noise, the world is so god damn noisy all the time, but this was close and the cat’s head shot up, alert, eyes agog; he noticed it too. Once the cat confirms something, then I’m sure, it’s not just me, he can see and hear stuff I can’t. So I took more notice as I carried on tapping the keys. There was a definite strange sort of sound, coming through, unnerving somehow. Something moving.

I couldn’t place what it was. He jumped down and went all bent weird and slow like cats do when they don’t know what something is, approaching the room gingerly and stiff, creeping up on whatever was there. I thought I’d better follow, in case it was an interloper wanting a fight; he’s not a tolerant cat, he likes confrontation at times, coupled with being very territorial, does not appreciate passersby wandering into his space and is all too ready to let them all know it; this is his place and you don’t want to come here; back off or I’ll be waiting. You can’t blame him. He’s earned it. But not wanting to have to break up a fight again, I followed him.

It took me a minute to grasp what I saw; my eyes saw it, but it took a moment for my brain to fully comprehend. It was just a blur of living strangeness, the unexpected, the out of place, so for a minute it makes no sense. There was a robin in the kitchen, the red so bright in the gloom, it glowed; a robin, trapped, fluttering and hurling himself against the window, wings beating frantically in a desperate attempt to get out, as if it just kept hitting it’s whole body against the window it would break through to the world outside, through this barrier. It just kept doing it.

Somehow it had managed to fly its way through the small gap of the door, but not find its way back out and was now about to damage itself in relentless beating against an immovable force. The red of its breast so vivid in the falling afternoon light seemed unreal and the sound and nervous energy from this trapped being was awful. I felt it inside me. I had to get the window open; key, it needed a key, I flew to get it, but just when I came back it left the window, flying madly towards the door. I hoped it would escape, but in its panic couldn’t find it, only got to the wall and circled round, ending up back in the window, all the time fluttering, beating out this awful panic sound. I was anxious the cat might grasp it out the air, it came so close, but he seemed flawed by this trapped, mad being, spinning by so fast, so frantic. Ducking his head, all eyes, mesmerised and mystified.

It pained me to see its wings splaying and hitting the window over and over, so much my hands stumbled and I was in such a fury to get that god damn window open I turned the key the wrong way, pushing and pushing and this bird was beating and fluttering and any minute I was sure it was going to kill itself, or smash its wings to pieces right in front of me.

Finally I swung the window wide and away it went, so fast, speeding over the garden, without a second’s hesitation, it just kept on going, as far as it could away from the trap, from the horror it had endured. Wow, I thought, who would have believed it.

These odd moments just keep on happening. What are the odds of a bird ending up in the house? The robin just at that moment, managing somehow to fly in a small gap and then get trapped; none of the cats there waiting, instead the cat made me get up. The old ginger cat had gone; if he’d been there the bird might have flown right into him. But these are the odd moments; the glitches in the field, the things that don’t fit, strangeness slipping in to remind you everything is not how you think.

It was a strange thing, to hear this panicked sound, this heavy fluttering, dry beating, over and over, once I fully listened, not knowing what it was and then seeing a small, vivid bird somewhere it would never normally be, frantically hurling itself against a window; it seemed bigger, more alive. It was shocking somehow to witness, the blind panic, the relentless futile action that seemed so painful, so desperate, locked in a blind belief if it just kept going it could find its way out, even at the risk of harm or pain, even as the surface refused to budge, to move even a bit, it just kept on bashing its little body against the glass; on the edge, trapped in its panic, lost in the perception of the world it could see but not reach; locked out of its world outside and unable to understand why, but only repeat the futile, harmful action to get out, to keep on, however hopeless, to get free or die trying. It thought it was out of options; seeing that world there but unable to reach it, somehow it got stuck in a self-destruct cycle and I wonder if it would have gone on till it was broken and done. If I had not been there, would it have simply hurled itself to death, till it had nothing left, rather than risk waiting for help that might not come?

I don’t know but it broke my afternoon, this odd wild interruption, a disorienting disorder, like a sign or portent of some further, deeper chaos invisibly unfolding, made me feel odd inside, I didn’t like it. The awful sounds it made stick in my head, I still hear them. At least I managed to open the window and let it go, catching a glimpse of its splayed wings on the sill, as it fanned out, in a moments break of attack, so soft yet powerful, so vivid brown and red, so close, this living, wild creature so out of place, I felt the urgency, it was life or death, this small being, almost killing itself in front of me, but I had no way of telling it, just wait, hush, slow down, no need, it’ll be alright, I can open it, stop killing yourself. Anyway, it seemed to fly off at such high speed I could only presume no real damage was done. But it was unnerving somehow; it disquieted me, this trapped being, the fear, the drive to simply be free whatever the cost. Strange way to end the afternoon. Leaving the door open for the old cat but instead a robin found its way in, but not out. The black cat seemed confused, even as he dodged and moved wildly, he seemed unsure, a little aghast, a little intimidated even, at this being that was so driven, so frantic. Its ceaseless, careless, wild energy caught him off guard; he didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe he sensed the energy, the something beyond normal birdness, pushed beyond its usual self; that this creature was intent and nothing would stop it till it was dead. I think it threw him, the sheer energetic, fast desperation that came off this thing in waves. He didn’t want to get involved. When I approached him after the robin had gone he was hunched, prickly, on the arm of the couch, a weird, wild-eyed look, he was ready and wary, and he skittered away from me, as if it was something to do with me and he wanted no more of it.

It stayed in my mind, I kept shaking my head; I didn’t know what to make of it. Wait till I tell him when he comes, that’s my story for the day, this is what happened. I’d make it good, all the details. But after he’d gone, I realized I’d forgotten, it had slipped my mind and I’d not shared the experience. I felt sad, let down, with that little bird still fluttering inside me waiting to be freed and now it was too late. It still flutters within me, unable to get out.

Photo credits : Top main photo – Martin Sepion on Unsplash; second photo – spirit1955 on Pixabay