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Found a Cockatiel in Penwood State Park

by George on August 16, 2010

It seems that every time I want to write about some profound topic – say, the imbroglio regarding the creation of an Islamic cultural center in the vicinity of Ground Zero – I become distracted by something that seems far less important. In this case, it’s a bird.

I was going to say that I found him yesterday in the parking lot at nearby Penwood State Park, but it is probably more accurate to say that he found me. In fact, I almost didn’t notice him at all – he isn’t much bigger than some of the leaves present in the lot. He was colorful though; and was quite obviously a very different bird than what I normally saw in the area – especially when contrasted against either the green foliage ensconcing the lot in shade, or the shade itself. Since he seemed close enough to be a photo-op, I reached for my cell phone to snap a picture, hoping the movement wouldn’t spook him into flight. It didn’t; he actually took a couple of jittery hops in my direction. He stopped a mere six feet away from me.

Penwood pecking granola off my shin on the day I found him in Penwood State Park

I sat down to get a better angle on the little guy and he took a couple of more hops toward me. I snapped a picture. The sound of the shutter caused him to stop and look at me. The tilt of his head seemed like an inquiry, so I told him I was just there to help him. Somewhere in my conscious mind I heard, “You’re talking to a bird, idiot” but something told me this wee little one needed to hear a voice – something calm. He was now only about four feet away – and trying to be a brave, trusting little bird.

 

I sprinkled some of the granola bar crumbs I’d procured from my pocket on the pavement between us. I encouraged him to come closer and enjoy the crumbs – and he did. A couple of more hops and he was near my foot. Adding some crumbs to my sneaker caused him to hop upon it to savor them. Content that my foot was devoid of any other offerings he flapped his wings a bit to get onto my knee. He pecked at my legs and shorts, but after finding nothing of interest on them, he returned to the pavement. He walked around me to make a more full appraisal of his new benefactor. During this tour he would stop, tilt his head, and roll his beady black eyes up and down me in the same way I might assess, say, a monster truck.

It was pretty clear that my new friend was a Cockatiel. His bright yellow face with the oh-gosh-I’m-blushing orange cheeks and the spiked ‘do on his head were dead giveaways. Since it seemed unlikely that a small, Australian bird was unlikely to enjoy more than a day or two of life in a Connecticut forest – populated as they are with foxes, coyotes, and an air wing comprised of various hawks and eagles – it seemed like the only thing to do was to give him food and shelter. So I did.

In the grand scheme of things, this was a small act of charity. I could have left the bird to a fate I would likely never know, but that seemed to be an act of indifference that would be a wound on my soul. Instead, this small rescue has brought me a sensation of peace and calm. Is anything really more important than peace and calm?

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