Little birds

 

After I’ve looked and looked for a particular bird and it finally shows up, I sometimes find myself muttering under my breath “Thanks little bird.” ( Realize, I come from a house where we talk to inanimate objects, and tell Alexa “Thank you.”)  Whatever little bird I just saw didn’t have to ever show up where I happened to be looking, but that it did gave me great pleasure and probably did the bird no harm.  Even with the “thank you”, I realize there was likely no charitable motive on the bird’s part.

 

Watching a wildlife program a while back, I recall a scene where the person killed some grouse to eat.  As she was dismembering and plucking the carcasses, she solemnly recited a “thank you” for giving your life for my sustenance; that little recitation having been inspired by Native American tradition.  I’m not sure she got the subtleties entirely right.  Somehow, thanking a bird for involuntarily getting slaughtered and eaten just feels a little wrong.  If the bird had any control over that outcome, that person would still be hungry.

 

 

 

 

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