A little Tufted Titmouse flies free at the Rainbow Bridge this morning. It died in my hand, after still trying to preen its soft grey feathers and accepting tiny sips of water.
In those five days, it learned to perch on a small stick and to jump down and catch a mealworm it had dropped while I was feeding it. It joyfully consumed at least 50 of the small wriggly critters over the past three days.
It couldn’t even grasp with its little clawed feet when I first found it; now I wonder if it was already sick or injured then. It really rallied when I began feeding it, which I did every 45 minutes to an hour from 8:00 AM to 9:00 PM.
I guess I got a little smug, really thinking I was making a difference and that soon I would be able to release it into the wild. As I held it in my hand and wept, I could feel its little life ebbing away. I sat with it for an hour on the deck, talking to it and emotionally releasing it to go with the Great Spirit of Titmouse, who creates, loves, and welcomes its little ones back to the great Tree that grows over the Rainbow Bridge.
A small tragedy, perhaps, what with the catastrophic oil spill that is killing Life on a large scale. But I loved that little bird and I grieve at its passing. I hope it knows that I tried with all my heart to do the right thing.
This afternoon I will return a little Titmouse to where I found it, barely alive, five days ago. I will dig a small hole under a tree and line it with pine straw. I will lay a little bird to rest on a bed of mealworms in the fine sawdust they sell them in at the pet store. And I will pray that when I cross over that bridge, a tiny grey Tufted Titmouse will fly down and land on my shoulder, happily twittering its cheery little song of welcome Home.
That's bird cereal in his feathers. He managed to preen most of it away.
UPDATE:
From a book of Prayers for Healing, I offer this
on behalf of all the animals.
In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In
the name of Whale. In the name of Snake. Who have
taught us. Who have guided us. Who have sustained us.
Who have healed us.
Please heal the animals.
In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In
the name of Whale. In the name of Snake. Whom we
have slaughtered. Whom we have feared. Whom we
have caged. Whom we have persecuted. Whom we
have slandered. Whom we have cursed. Whom we
have tortured.
Please protect the animals.
In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In
the name of Whale. In the name of Snake. Whose
habitat we have stolen. Whose territory we have
plundered. Whose feeding grounds we have paved
and netted. Whose domain we have poisoned. Whose
food we have appropriated. Whose young we have
killed. Whose lives and way of life we have threatened.
Please restore the animals.
In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In
the name of Whale. In the name of Snake.
Forgive us. Have mercy. May the animals return.
Not as a resurrection but as living beings. On earth.
On this earth that is also theirs.
Oh Great Spirit. Please heal the animals. Please protect
the animals. Please restore the animals.
So our lives may also be healed. So our souls may be
protected. So our spirits may be restored.
Oh Spirit of Raven. Oh Spirit of Wolf. Oh Spirit
of Whale. Oh Spirit of Snake.
Teach us, again, how to live.
– Deena Metzger
Update #2:
I buried the little titmouse around 7:00 pm. There's a landscaped island in front of my condo with blooming rose bushes and ornamental grass. I chose a spot between two clumps of ornamental grass and dug a hole as deep as I could with a trowel and the ground being really dry and hard. I put the remaining mealworms in their sawdust at the bottom and laid the little bird on top. Then I sprinkled raw sunflower seeds and wild cherries on top. Then I covered it up and put the little branch s/he used as a perch as a marker. Then I sprinkled rose petals all around and wished the little one a happy journey. Then out of a perfect humid stillness, a strong wind arose and blew just for a few seconds. I'd like to think it was from the wings of my little angel bird as she took flight.