On Saturday, mid afternoon I found a young bird dead in the pond. It broke my heart to see him, eyes closed, could have been sleeping, and for a second I hoped he was. That I had found him in time and could scoop him from the waters edge, he’d be a little soggy, but otherwise alright. Perhaps he’d need a little care, but that was ok. He wasn’t. So I set about digging him a small grave amongst the flowers.

‘We should just throw him in the bin,’ that’s what the people around me said. He was dead already, and he was gross. But I couldn’t. It felt so unkind to the small life that had barely begun. And I know he was just a little bird, his life (or hers, truth be known I don’t know,) would have been one of gathering worms, and feeding chicks. But it was a life, one that had ended in nothing but panic, trapped beneath a net, probably driven there by thirst. And I felt that I could do this little bird one final service, a place to rest. So I dug him his grave, and buried him. I could give him a final resting place. Somewhere to sleep his final sleep. Perhaps I did it more for me, because of the responsibility I felt. I don’t know, but I know that to me it felt right.

So where am I going with this? Asides a tribute to a creature that was as much alive as you or I? If only for a short time? Kindness. The world is bitter, it is unkind, and so often unfair. But somewhere in there, I beg that we can all find the kindness to take the time to bury a little bird. To place a flower on their grave and remember, it is by our own grace the world is good, and our own inaction it can be terrible.

Be kind my friends. Take the time to do the things that may not seem important, because really it is those things that make this world bearable.

Rest in peace little fledgling. I’m sorry your time was so short. May there be peace for you somewhere.

Love always, G S Scribbles