Published September 9, 2007 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
The other day Christina were shopping in downtown Hibbing after an appointment (hear that, merchants? Worth a coupon for the free plug, right?) We were just stepping inside a store when – WHAM! – a chickadee slammed into the window right next to the door (through no fault of the merchant, whose prices were competitive and shelves copiously stocked with only the finest wares).
The little bird, who survived the trauma, was doing this stunned Stevie Wonder back-and-forth bit with its head. We stood over the feathered victim asking an important question: What IS the right thing to do with an injured bird on someone else’s property? If it were a dog or cat that ran into the window and suffered a concussion I’d bring it to the vet. But as one-time bird owners we knew that some local vets are, or at least were, somewhat baffled by the ailments of tiny birds. (We once paid someone to poke our late bird and shrug). The store had no need for a wounded bird and we were in no position to care for the bird ourselves. So we merely propped the bird up in a sitting position, much the same way you’d prop up a hobo who fell face-first into a gutter. Not much, but something.
We told the storekeeper inside about the bird. She walked to the door, looked at it and said to us, “You know that old saying about birds and windows?” No, we said. All our old sayings about birds involve two in the bush and something about hands. Well, she continued, apparently her grandfather taught her that if a bird hits your window you or someone in your family will get in an accident. If the bird lives, you or your family member will live. If the bird dies, curtains for you and/or your family.
We were alarmed until we remembered that this particular bird hadn’t struck OUR window. Also, the bird lived, so even if the bad mojo rubbed off on us it wasn’t bad enough to put us six feet under (at least, according to a stranger’s grandpa’s irrational superstition).
Like most northern Minnesotans, however, we see many a bird plow into our windows at home. In fact, just a few weeks before the incident in town a bird punched a hole in the screen of one of our living room windows. (It lived, which I assume is why I’m still here to write this). Naturally, despite our concern for the bird, the household consensus was, “Awww, why’d he have to hit THAT screen. That’s the window with the good view.” Not a proud moment for empathy.
Another time, during the 2004 election, mysterious holes kept appearing in a candidate sign I put up in our yard. And in case you’re wondering we vote straight-ticket Whig in our house. Naturally, we suspected neighborhood hooligans or saboteurs from the other side (Tories have no class) but then I saw the true villain. One day while home for lunch I saw a bird swoop down and land its beak into the sign, knocking it down. The bird yanked its beak out of the sign and moved on, presumably to collect a bounty from the dirty political boss who gives the orders. If one of the major presidential candidates out there falls to his or her knees in pain during a debate while flailing bird legs kick from his or her eye socket we’ll know something’s up.
Birds are some of nature’s finest work: thinking, social creatures that can fly across the world and build things without any carbon emissions. If anything, seeing them collide with our artificial world only reminds us that we humans are strange aberrations in the natural world.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.