By Julia Lima, TIWP Student
Outside my window there is a tall oak tree. And on the second largest branch, tucked away in the shade, there sits a little straw-and-twig nest. In the nest lay two birds and two eggs. I like to watch these birds. I see them leave early in the morning to go get little bugs and strings and wood-chips and such. Then I see them come back, when the sun is setting, just before the pink in the sky becomes black.
They seem so happy together. That is, seemed. Ever since the rainy season has started, they’ve had to stay in the nest longer. They take turns going out and getting food, but it’s just not the same. I’ve been watching them more closely these days. I’ve noticed that the bigger, brighter-bellied bird (the male, I’d guess) has been treating the smaller, darker bird quite poorly. For one, I’ve heard the things he chirps to her, and boy, I feel bad for those newborn babies, having to listen to that foul language. Then after they argue and chirp back and forth, he ignores her for days. But worst of all, he pecks at her wings. Her once beautiful, colorful, long wings have been plucked at to the point where they’re frail and grey. That is the worst to watch. I just sit there, behind my window, as he pecks at her feathers, while she just sits there, frozen, silenced. She has been plucked and chirped at for so long that she no longer chirps back. She just lets him.
But what can I do to help her? I can’t make the rain stop. I can’t tell him to go away. I can’t even save the baby birds. So what am I left to do? I want to hear her sing again, see her wings grow back, and watch her fly. But I don’t know how. So I’m here, sitting beside my window, next to the tall oak tree, watching the rain pour from the sky.
