Whatever stayed my hand on Friday, whether it be cowardice or, if you’re that way inclined, a power-that-be; it was a good thing that I let the bird live, because it did! Live I mean.
About half an hour after I had posted it chirped and accepted a few drops of water from my finger. Then ten minutes or so after that it righted itself. Then ten minutes after that it attempted to jump out of its box and into the waiting jaws of our lovely Mog.
Luckily for the bird (who must be pretty damn lucky given the events thus far, of course it would have been luckier for it not to have been in the situation in the first place…) I had left a big glass vase (lately used as a terrarium for my pitcher plant but now sits idle on my floor) next to the shelf and it landed inside. Have you ever heard a frustrated cat yowl? I swear you could almost hear “But I can see it, how can I not kill it?” in the owwwowwoww.
So I took the bird and the container outside, picked the bird up and as I was looking for a suitable place to deposit it, it flew away.
Now I’m filled with a ridiculous sense of joy when I hear the birds chirping around the neighbourhood. I’m even turning a bit Disney waiting for my bird to recognise me…
The whole incident made me think about charity. Ever since I came across the idea that charity begets charity (in a bad way that it encourages a cycle of poverty etc) I have been fascinated by the charitable act (and before you think I’ve turned all young National on you, it was during a lecture on the Songs of Innocence and Experience so you can blame Blake!) If I derive benefit from my charitable act (happiness, joy, a tax break) is it in fact charity? Does it really matter if it helps? And does it help? Or does it lock people into a dependence on that charity when it should be their right to live comfortably?
Big questions for a little bird; I’m surprised that you could fly under the weight of it!