Aug 08, 2000

"Just A Junco"

.... by Dee Walmsley

He hopped down from his perch in the azalea bush as I mixed together the bucket of fertilizer and water. Just a tiny Oregon Junco taking in the sun or so I thought until he showed no fear or apprehension in my presence. I knew he was sick and that it was only a matter of time before the end. I sat on the edge of the front porch talking softly to this little bird as he slowly pecked his way across the flowerbed. He hopped onto the lawn and I steered him away from the flowers I was about to feed and then watched as he drank from the dripping hose. As I returned to refill my bucket I saw him checking out my ornamental cedar and thought good, you'll be safe there. Bringing him in the house wouldn't help and knew the trauma of being handled would be more upsetting than letting nature take its course, and so when I saw him disappear into the greenery I was relieved.

I went about fertilizing the roses when a small movement on the road caught my eye. Oh no! It couldn't be, and then the wind caught a tiny feather and I knew. I waited anxiously as two cars passed by then confirmed my suspicions. There lay the remains of a tiny body that only minutes before had quenched its thirst from my hose. I crossed back over the road to get a utensil to remove the squashed body as the traffic continued. When I returned only a spot on the road and one blood-soaked feather remained along with my guilt for not intervening.

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