Goldfinch encounter

 Today on my walk I had a beautiful encounter with a baby American goldfinch. This bird is also called a lesser goldfinch because of its size.

This beautiful, bright yellow, little bird was in the grass lying there, and so still I thought it had just fallen from its nest, and was dead. Moved in compassion, I touched it, and startled it...it seemed to be only napping. It fluttered, and darted a few feet away. Perhaps it was tired from trying to fly, I thought. It was a strange thing to see. Then I thought , maybe it was hurt or sick or dying. I reached out again, and it peeped and fluttered just a bit out of reach, but seemed healthy, and though a bit nervous, somewhat uninterested in fleeing altogether. Our worlds were coming together, and we reckoned each other.

I might be able to briefly hold him, and take him home, just long enough to show such a beautiful creature to my children, and then set him off, and back to his flying practice. I reached over to him, and took him in my hand with hardly any effort. He peeped a few times, and fluttered, his heart pounded in my palm, but as I cupped in securely in my hand, and against my stomach, he calmed down completely, and even drifted to sleep as I walked home about two blocks away.

Once indoors, my husband helped me unfasten my remaining hand weight I use for exercising, and I brought the little bird over to my son to see up close. The goldfinch opened his eyes and stared, completely at ease, and looked at him. My son, was plunged into awe, and delight. I told him, he should speak in a whisper, and that he could gently stroke his head with one finger. The bird accepted the gesture with grace.

Then my son said, we should let him go, and I felt too that it was time. We had joined in a beautiful time together, and our worlds had met peacefully and lovingly. Now we wanted him to be free of us, and go on happily. 

I had some concerns in the back of my mind that perhaps I had not been a bird whisperer, maybe he was only sick, or injured. Maybe he would stay languishing in the grass, and be eaten by a local animal. Still, I placed him in a tuft of grass near our porch, and watched him. He sat only for a second, and then fluttered quickly, regaining himself. Then he flew about fifteen feet away. He rested there for about three minutes, and then continued his flying practice toward the shadow of our house. I went indoors, and back out a few minutes later to see if I could find him, and to see if he was indeed healthy enough to truly fly, but he was gone. Though our worlds met, he emerged into his world well.

What a beautiful blessing.

I found out a bit about him, including the image shown, and his bird call (once he matures) at this helpful site. I hope to learn many calls of our local birds this summer, because on my daily walks I hear them sing. What glorious creatures. This should be a helpful way to do that.