17 August 2012

Fuzzy

This is Fuzzy.


He is a young Blue Jay. We have a bird feeder that hangs above my deck that is easily visible through my kitchen windows. It took a while for the neighborhood birds to discover it, but after our first visitor (a male Cardinal!) word spread quickly. Soon after, we were greeted each morning by the sight of dozens of birds jockeying for position on, and below, the feeder. We've seen House Finches, Tufted Titmouses (Titmice?), Sparrows, Cardinals, Mourning Doves, Brown-headed Cowbirds, Grackles, a Dark-eyed Junco, White-breasted Nuthatches, and Downy, Hairy, and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.

Of all the birds who join us for breakfast, the Blue Jay is the largest and can be a bit of a bully at the feeder. It announces its presence with a screech before arriving, thus scaring away all the other birds before it perches precariously on a rung that is too small for its body. Then it digs in the mix until it finds a sunflower seed which it carries to my railing to crack open. I admire the Blue Jays' skill and beauty, despite the fact they have been known to pilfer eggs or (gasp!) small birds from other nests.

This July we began to notice the babies of our nesting pairs. We could tell who the fledglings were; they lacked the grace of their parents, and they weren't quite sure how to negotiate the feeder. Some of them still had their downy feathers and their expressions looked, well, young. Curious but ignorant, like human toddlers. There was a group of five young Blue Jays that would come and go, and they were endlessly entertaining. Two weeks later I looked out on the deck on a Tuesday morning and saw Fuzzy.


He was so still I thought he was dead. I looked more closely and watched as he opened, then shut, his eyes. He had drifted off to sleep. Eventually a chipmunk came along to act as the custodian and clean up all the dropped seed, and Fuzzy gradually awoke. He wasn't frightened, but he hopped up onto my railing to get out of the way. He stayed there for most of the day, watching as his brothers and sisters swooped in and flew off with confidence, and every so often he would jump back down and procure a seed of his own. He flew away at the end of the day, but the next morning he was back on the railing.

The boys and I took turns trying to get close to him, because he was trusting and guileless. He reminded me of my special boys because he was clearly delayed in meeting his developmental milestones. It took him forever to crack open a sunflower seed, his flying was wobbly, and nothing scared him off the railing, not even the squirrels. I feared for him like I fear for One, feared he didn't have the skills or the strength he would need to survive, to shed his downy feathers and become sharp and swift like his nest mates. Like my One, he was too sweet and a bit confounded by the rigors of life.


That Friday morning I looked out on the deck and saw Fuzzy lying on his side. I hoped he was sleeping but I knew better, so I prayed only for a chance to save him. Four and Five were watching t.v. in the other room so I acted as quickly as I could. I yanked on a pair of kitchen gloves, which turned out to be two right hands, grabbed a shoe-box from the recycling bin, a towel from the drawer, filled a dropper with water, and threw in a handful of seed. I opened the door as quietly as possible and knelt down next to our bird. I was too late.

All that was left for me to do was spare the children. I scooped up Fuzzy and walked to the woods in our back yard, where I buried him as best I could under a thick cover of leaves by our lilacs. I didn't want Five, our budding ornithologist, to see me so I hurried inside. Frankly, I didn't want any of the boys to find out. I've accepted that sickness and death are part of our world, but I wanted to spare them that lesson. If just for that day.

I called the Captain because I was so sad and needed to share the news with someone. He told me I should take comfort knowing Fuzzy came to us to die, that he wasn't alone, that he knew we would take care of him. I thought of One and Four, and how much I want for them to not go through life alone. I know we have a big family, and there will always be someone to watch over them, but I want them to share a life with someone they love. I want that for all my boys, but it will be harder for them.

We left for the beach on Saturday morning, and when we returned the following week we refilled the bird feeder and watched our friends flock back. Five wondered where Fuzzy was, and One told him we wouldn't recognize him because he'd grown up while we were gone. The next day Five pointed at one of the Jays and said, "I think that's Fuzzy! It looks like his face, but without his fluffy feathers."

I smiled back at him and agreed.

17 comments:

  1. Okay I had to skip this one cause I CANNOT read sad animal stories. Bwa!!

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    1. You are allowed to skip. (But, as always, thanks for stopping by!)

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  2. Life is so harsh sometimes, but we DO get through it. I have the same aching desire for my kids, I want them all to have what I do with their dad. It only seems fair!

    You did exactly the right thing, and isn't our Captain the wise one? He's right, this was a gift that Fuzzy brought to you. You were chosen.

    Also, from the last post, Birthday Cake Oreos are a special release that have sprinkles and frosting-like confetti in the filling, to celebrate their 100th. Now, go get some. I have to search our house for the ones my daughter is hiding from me. Either that, or go buy my own.

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    1. The Captain is wise, and he said all the right things. Sometimes I think I've become inured to the hard realities of the world, and then I come undone. It appears I am only human.

      I searched for those Oreos today, because Four turns 11 on Sunday. Alas, they eluded me. I haven't given up, though, and will search at a different store tomorrow!

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  3. I feel such empathy for you because I am beginning to worry about my granddaughter for the same reasons. She has a learning disability that has some social aspect to it. She doesn't pick up social cues. And she can be naive. I'm so afraid people will take advantage of her. She is a gifted artist who lives in her own world.
    Also, I once had a cat come to me for similar purposes. I found out he had feline leukemia and he came to me so I could make him comfortable while he died. Sad but I'm glad he didn't die all alone with no one to mourn him.

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    1. I understand your worry. One is quite content to be left alone, although his social skills have greatly improved over the years. I think we all pray for the kindess of strangers when he's out in the world, and he does go some places on his own. But I don't know that I'll ever stop worrying.

      The Captain has a young cousin who had similar issues to your granddaughter. She is also a gifted artist, and with the encouragement of her teachers applied and was accepted to a small, well-known art school in Philadelphia. I hope your granddaughter can one day share her art with the world.

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  4. Well now I'm just a big ole mess. And I hate blue jays (they used to dive bomb our cats and any human they disliked in our yard). But that's not really the thing is it? I know, acutely, your pain. I look at my girl and wonder if anyone else will know her greatness . I wonder if there will be someone that can truly comfort her when she aches when she's 8, 18, 48, 78 years old. I wonder how I'm supposed to watch as she struggles to fly and not run under her to catch her, or at the very least not have my heart ache at her struggles. Of course, somedays I don't wonder about these things at all because I would miss out on her being here now if I keep wondering about her being in the future. Motherhood: it's not for sissies. Good thing your Wonder Woman bracelets fit.
    Hugs.

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    1. Hugs back. I don't think our hearts ever stop aching. I was happy to achieve normal respiration every day. I know all parents have these same dreams for their children, but I don't know how many lie awake wondering what business they can start so their special children are guaranteed jobs. These are the things that occupy my mind when I let it drift.

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  5. Oh Jeez. I need to not come here first thing in the morning. Does anyone have any tissues?

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    1. I can pass you the box from the kitchen table. I used it last night when I posted.

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  6. Such a sweet, sad story. Poor little bird. Life is just heartbreaking sometimes. He had a happy place to be while he was alive, and maybe his only purpose was to bring you a little bit of joy.

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    1. And he did! The lovely thing is that he continues to do so for the boys.

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  7. What a sweet story. You are such a good mom.

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    1. Thank you. Most days I would agree.

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  8. Sniffle. A lovely story. And is it bad that I am just a tiny bit in love with your husband?

    I had a stray cat come to me a number of years ago. I got her fixed and meant to adopt her out, but somehow, she stayed. (Ha.) She lived in my upstairs room, semi-feral, but also loving and sweet. And six months later, she developed renal failure and died within a week (during which I and my vet fought like hell to save her.) My vet, who is a terrific but usually pragmatic woman, said she thought the cat was probably ill before she ever came to me...but that she'd needed a place to died, loved and safe, and cared for. It was a tough thing to go through, but I don't regret being that place.

    You were that place for Fuzzy. You rock.

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    1. Love is never bad, even if it's directed toward another woman's husband. The Captain graciously accepts all compliments.

      As much as I complain about having so many children, I think I'm a rescuer like you at heart. Maybe the animals know that more than I do!

      I'm sure Fuzzy was ill as well, and nature took its course. I'm happy we had the feeder because I doubt he knew how to find food in the wild, and maybe that sustained him a little longer. And now I'm going to refill the feeder again, and keep a few more birds happy.

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  9. I enjoyed reading the comments... so I could get the Child aspect of this post, without being torn up by the Dead Animal part. !!

    With more women in the work place, making their own money, perhaps there's more room for the Beta Males--men who might be socially awkward, or have less high falutin' jobs, but are sweet and kind.

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Thanks for reading! Unlike other Diaries, this one isn't private. Feel free to share your thoughts. Politely, of course.