Squawk! Squawk! A loud bird sound I had never heard before was coming from my backyard. Looking out my window, I witnessed a drama of David and Goliath proportions taking place…
A small, unassuming bird let forth disturbing noises. Much to my surprise, sitting on the back fence was the brown bird I had named Feisty. He was staring down a sharp taloned hawk.
Feisty was what one would call a medium -sized bird. He was not very big. But he was not very small. A plain, unassuming little brown fellow, he had staked out a bush in my yard for his home. In the bush, he had planned to build his nest and raise his family.
Previously, I had seen him going around and around the bush, chasing other birds away from his territory.
“This is mine. Get out!” he seemed to say to the other birds, until they flew away and left him in peace.
But on this fateful day, Feisty was staring down a hawk and letting forth several very loud squawks.
He rubbed his beak back and forth across the top of the wood fence. It was as if in bird speak he was saying, “Do I look like lunch meat to you?! Do I?”
The hawk which was about to swoop down and kill him with his sharp talons, back winged for a full minute. He eyed Feisty, considering him.
The hawk was clearly surprised. For this plump little bird, which he had clearly thought was lunch meat, was telling him he would fight him to the bitter end.
Oh, I have clearly made a mistake. This little fellow will fight me. He is this very moment staring me down, protesting.
And the hawk, not wanting to possibly lose something precious, decided this small brown bird wasn’t worth it. And he turned his gaze elsewhere and flew away, looking for easier prey.
As for Feisty, he groomed his ruffled feathers and flew back into the bush, his home. In the following weeks small baby brown birds were heard chirping. Feisty flew back and forth bringing them food, raising them until they were grown enough to fly away to build their own nests and have a family of their own.
I have another story. But it will make you sad. It will make you mad. And so, it is not worth telling, as it does not give hope.
Author Beverly Adam 