The Sparrow

By, J. Scott Sly

‘Forlorn! The very word is like a bell/ To toll me back from thee to my sole self!/ Adieu! The fancy cannot cheat so well/ As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.’ Ode to a Nightingale, John Keats

The sparrow occupies a middling space in the minds of most humans. The reputation of this particular avian harbours somewhere between the oft-hated swallow and the much beloved nightingale. The sparrow is a somewhat unique bird in that it has no actual marketable skills. The swallow, whilst hated, can build quite a cosy home constructed of earth and roadside rubbish. Then there is of course, the nightingale; a bird which has captured a romantic image of forlorn lovers for centuries. Many stories have been told about the bird that serenades these lovers through their restless nights of anguish. One has to admit that there is an innate romance to the idea of a bird such as the nightingale. There is so much fuss given to idea of the nightingale, so much so that people (namely that Florence woman) have taken to naming themselves after it (although one may note that this generally only happens under duress or whilst in Russia). This brings us to the story of the particular sparrow of which this story refers.

“I too can feel love,” said the Sparrow in a bit too great of a huff, “such yolks should not be the domain of the Nightingale alone.” The Sparrow, who had spent all day singing for passers-by and tramps in the centre square, was not in the greatest of moods. He had sung himself practically horse trying to gain the affection of those he met in the grassy expanse of the park, but with no great success. His efforts were for naught day after day. The Sparrow was beginning to become rather depressed as he was not even earning the small amounts of bread crumbs that he had once been given in return for his song. Today, the children were feeding the over-stuffed ducks and the (frankly) obese geese that gathered in the centre island of the small pond where most of the avian population had taken to dwell. The Sparrow purposively avoided this gaggle and preferred to spend his days amongst the pigeons, who (for whatever reason) adored the large statue of the bearded man near the entrance of the park. Whilst among the babbling (and rather stupid) pigeons, the Sparrow had a feeling of superiority, and felt that sympathetic humans might feel the same way. For a while, he was correct in his assumption, humans did often throw bits of their street-vender food toward the gathering of birds where he was, but he grew tired of the token bits, and wanted something more. The Sparrow began to feel that this was not the type of recognition that he wanted. He was a sparrow amongst pigeons, and thus felt that his place was elsewhere.

The Sparrow had unfortunately grown rather bitter by the time of this story telling. He had lived a short, but rather difficult life in the city. He was the eldest hatchling of a small flock of sparrows. Because of his position in the nest, he did not always get enough food, nor the attention he so desired from his parents. As a result of not truly feeling wanted after his younger siblings came about, and an incredible urge to leave the nest, the Sparrow flew away as soon as his wings would carry him. During his initial days upon leaving, the Sparrow felt such a wonderful feeling of emancipation. This feeling, however was fleeting and quickly turned into an intense loneliness.

The Sparrow of this story had an odd quirk about him. For whatever reason, he did not find himself attracted to other birds of (excuse the phrase) his feather, and instead preferred the odd and unique qualities of humans.

There are three known and accepted facts about bird & human or human & bird love:

It is not tolerated by the bird community, but strangely it is somewhat accepted in the human world (but only in certain circles).

Physically, it is rather difficult, if not impossible to maintain a relationship.

If the above criteria are somehow met, it is the domain of the nightingale almost exclusively.

This of course brings us to the jealously bit.

The Sparrow had taken his fancy of a young woman who lived a few blocks from the park where he lived amongst the pigeons. She was a breezy and carefree girl who did not seem to have any form of gainful employment. It appeared that she was simply one of those people for whom everything just sort of works out for the better. The basics of her description were easily described, longish (as was the fashion) red-brown hair, deep green eyes, slender frame, and a demeanour which, to most others would appear care-free. In her mind, however, she was anything but care-free. This particular young woman was, unbeknownst to the Sparrow, to be married on the twenty-fifth of the very month he had become smitten with her. To him there was just something very romantic about this woman who seemed to pass the day doing little else than picking flowers and feeding the birds. The latter of which he found that he particularly enjoyed.

She, for her part, seemed to have a bit of feeling for the Sparrow as well. On her daily strolls through the park, she always managed to pick him out of the crowds of ducks, geese, and pigeons. When she would happen upon the Sparrow, his tiny heart would light up, and a most beautiful song would bellow from his tiny lungs, reverberate through his hallow bones, and fill the air with the triumph of youthful love.

For his effort, the Sparrow believed that the young woman loved him with equal intensity as he. One chilly autumn after-noon, the Sparrow sat near the bench where he and the Young Woman typically had their rendezvous. He sat and waited for the majority of the day, but the Young Woman did not show up. Being the bird of initiative that he was, the Sparrow set out on the trail that she used to get home after their ‘appointments.’ He followed the winding trail which led him to parts of the park that he had never himself seen, but had heard of in the gossip of the park green (the ducks were particularly known for their gossip which was always juicy and always quite to the point). While on his trek he came upon many dangers he had never before encountered. His first trial came as he decided to rest his wings and walk towards the home of his true love. As he hopped along down the gravel footpath, he heard a rustling in the freshly fallen leaves that were littering the ground near him. This sudden sound startled him and he froze in his tracks. Cocking his head in an inquisitive manner, the Sparrow decided to keep moving for fear that the rustling noise was not a friendly creature of this particular park.

Hopping along at a much greater pace, the Sparrow suddenly felt a sharp pang of hunger in his stomach, and suddenly, with all the ferocity of his ancient ancestors, he began the hunt for sustenance. As he feverishly hunted for a morsel to eat, the curious rustling once again startled the Sparrow. This time, however, the Sparrow felt that stopping would not be wise as it seemed that whatever creature was making that noise was following him. With the little remaining energy he had in his tiny frame, the Sparrow attempted to take to flight. Due in no small part to his lack of caloric energy, he could not quite muster the energy to flap hard enough and fell harshly to the earth. He stood up, brushed himself off, and surveyed his surroundings. His fall was, for lack of any other description, quite embarrassing and he hoped that nobody had witnessed it. While he sat and regained his composure, he felt a sudden presence behind him. The Sparrow realized without turning round that this creature behind him was not one of the friendlier creatures he knew in the park by the shock of cold that suddenly permeated his entire body. Slowly and nervously the Sparrow turned to meet whatever this presence was. To his surprise, what met his eyes was one of the least friendly snakes that he had ever come across. At first the Sparrow was almost relieved to see the snake, for at least it was not a cat. Snakes at least have the distinction of either being bad or good, where as cats only seem to only be set in the aforementioned ‘bad’ mode.

“What do you want?” said the Sparrow in a tone unbefitting a bird of his classical composure.

“What I want is unimportant,” spoke the snake with an all-too-stereotypical lisp, “What you have is all the more critical.”

The Sparrow was frankly a little befuddled, “what do I have?” inquired the Sparrow.

At that moment, however, he understood what it was that the snake wanted; himself. With a rush of panic fuelled adrenaline, the Sparrow finally took flight and left the lunging snake to bite at the ground where he once stood.

The Sparrow continued to follow the Young Woman’s path, only at this point sticking to the air. Despite his extreme hunger, he continued forth, hoping to see the woman he loved. The path led him out of the park and onto a street that was quite busy. He only had a vague idea of where he was going, but since he had seen the Young Woman walk along this very street, he decided to continue leaving the direction to his well-tuned intuition. He was fighting against the current of large lorry slipstreams and massive cross winds as he flew down the street. His determination would not allow him to slow or to be derailed in his mission. In an effort to avoid the wind generated by the speeding automobiles, the Sparrow climbed higher in the air. During his accent, he noticed a figure in the apartment window to his left. ‘It’s her!” he shouted as he pulled a complex (and physically taxing) immelman manoeuvre, followed promptly by a safe landing on the window sill. The Sparrow could not believe his eyes, the woman of his dreams was only a mere matter of inches away from him.

The Sparrow’s tiny heart beat as though it were attempting to exit his body through his beak. The woman was preparing for her wedding by stuffing hundreds of lavender coloured envelopes and listening to strange music. The music that the woman was listening to reminded the Sparrow of the odd foreign songs that his grandfather, an explorer of some note in the avian community would often sing whilst rambling on at considerable length about his journeys. The Sparrow found that he did not much care for this music and attempted to drown it out with his own song. With all of his remaining strength, the Sparrow belted out the song that he knew best in an attempt to draw the attention of the woman. The woman, however, seemed completely unmoved by his attempt at song. Frustrated, and indeed quite confused by her lack of attention to his song, the Sparrow decided perhaps he should be so bold as to enter a little further into her room. With equal parts determination and a fear, the Sparrow slowly walked nearer the interior of the woman’s apartment. As he drew closer, his heart raced, but he felt more courage course through out his body. In his mind he was telling himself that “all is to be okay, when she sees…” Precisely as his mind was justifying his entrance, he smacked up against the glass of the woman’s window with a quite tiny, and to human ears, practically inaudible thud. He sat back, head spinning from the abrupt contact, contemplating both what had just happened as well as a solution to this deterrence.

After some thought, and a bit of recovery, the Sparrow resolved that he in fact needed more speed in order to get through the invisible barrier. The Sparrow leapt off the windowsill and swooped down the side of the building with incredible speed. As he looped back, he adjusted his pitch to make sure he was exactly aimed at the window. He figured that he must have simply been too close, and too low down to see the entrance to the room from his former perspective, so with a bit of courage he charged straight for what he believed was the open entrance to the woman’s room. With an incredible thwack, the Sparrow smashed into the window leaving his unconscious and tiny body lying on the windowsill. Luckily, the woman did hear this attempt, and opened the window. With a look of both disgust and compassion, she scooped the tiny bird into her hand and brought him into her room. “Oh, poor thing,” she cried, “Why did you think you could go through glass?” The Sparrow did not answer the Woman’s question, because at that exact moment he was not at all conscious, and was quite at risk of never being so again.

The Woman did not know what she should do with the bird, she knew that most likely he was either dead, or quite nearly on the brink of dying. Placing the Sparrow on a towel, she rummaged through her closet and found a shoebox suitable for use as a make-shift bird hospice. A few hours passed and the Sparrow regained consciousness, but felt that his head had grown a new appendage that served only one function; to throb with cruel accuracy. The Sparrow took a survey of his surroundings in an attempt to figure out exactly where he was. This new geography confused him, he found himself surrounded by fixtures that he had never come across in all of his travels. He did not know exactly what he was supposed to do in this new environment. So out of equal parts fear and confusion, he resolved to let out a chirp to signal his distress. Luckily for him, he managed to attracted the attention of the woman who had rescued him.

The Woman came over to the box and with kind eyes peered down at the tiny helpless bird. “What did you think you were doing flying into my window little bird?” Asked the woman in a kind voice that sounded as though it were at least one octave above her normal speaking tone.

The Sparrow looked at the woman and realized that he had finally made it inside the home of his beloved. He stood speechless; staring at the woman not sure if he should trust his eyes. It all seemed too good to be true. Just as he felt like he was once again wrapping his mind around the situation, everything changed. From down the hallway, there was a bellowing sound of a male voice, “honey, you home?” Boomed the voice from the hall.

“I am dear, I’m just in the bedroom,” the woman replied sweetly.

The Man came into the room in a huff and kissed the woman on the top of her head. The Sparrow felt a new rush of confusion and sadness as he witnessed this display of affection. The Man questioned the Woman’s decision to keep the tiny invalid bird, which he asserted was most likely ‘teaming with worms and whatnot.’ The Sparrow was hurt, again and again by this man whom it seemed the Woman had foolishly decided to love.

As the days went on, the Sparrow continued his recovery. The Woman had fashioned a rather crude little nest for the Sparrow, in hopes that he would eventually recover. The Sparrow found this trait in the woman marvellous. Here he was a relative stranger, injured and pathetic but welcomed into her home and nursed back to heath. The Woman had placed his little home near the bookcases in her room, which were positioned fairly near the window he had attempted to fly through a few days before. Although the Woman was kind hearted, and provided him great care, there was still an aspect of her life that he could not fully understand. Whilst in recovery the Sparrow saw first-hand what it meant for humans to love each other. He witnessed the passion and energy of the young couple as they tossed about in their bed, with complete disregard for the Sparrow. With this revelation, he knew that his love could not be translated into human love.

For all of the Sparrow’s life, he had heard the stories of the Nightingale and the unique place that bird held in the hearts of humans. He yearned to be that kind of bird. When he was a younger, the Sparrow had been told the story of the Nightingale, and the Rose. In this particular story, the Nightingale embodied the true desire that existed in the hearts of two lovers who were set to be in love. This story, the Sparrow believed, held a definite poignancy for his situation. The Woman may be in love with the Man, but her true desire to remain a free spirit would be better satisfied by the Sparrow.

For the next few days, the Sparrow could not help but feel with-drawn from the world. His wounds were healing, as was his heart, to some extent. He began to feel comforted by the idea that he must move on with his life and quit pinning after a love that could not be. As the Sparrow healed, he began to sing his song, filling the Woman’s flat with his forlorn melody that haunted and reverberated with aid of her hardwood floors. The Woman had become accustomed to his song, and felt that his presence brought the room together quite nicely. She believed, however, that allowing the Sparrow to leave would be the humane thing to do, despite his true wishes to the contrary.

***

The day the Sparrow left had been a sad one. The Woman and her fiancée had grown quite fond of the tiny bird. The Sparrow, however, felt saddened by the loss of a love, as well as the loss of a quest in his life. At the moment that the Sparrow hopped up to the windowsill, he turned round to take one last survey of the place he had once so longed to be. It no longer held the same sense of wonder and excitement, nor did he hold the enchanted feelings toward the woman he had been after. The Sparrow then took a daring leap from the window and took to flight upon his newly healed wings. As the wind rushed though his feathers and as he navigated though the dense urban surrounding he felt a distinct sense of relief. He was no longer pinned down by the haunting feeling of longing; he was, in effect free.

A short time later he had made his way back to the park where he again spent the majority of his days. The gravity of his loss began to set in, and the Sparrow once again longed for the Woman’s touch. Lying next to him in the grass was a student who had fallen asleep with his book opened. The Sparrow cautiously approached the young man and began to pore over the words of the book. The title was The Letters of Abelard and Heloise. The Sparrow read what he could in the situation, and picked up on Abelard’s feeling of longing, loss and cruel impotence. The Sparrow had found an instant spiritual connection with the heretic monk, and felt that perhaps he embodied some form of Abelard.

More time passed and the Sparrow returned to his normal, daily activities never loosing memory of the Woman in the park. For her part, the Woman no longer spent her days lounging freely in the park; or anywhere for that matter. She had moved out of the city with her husband, but the Sparrow held out hope that one day he would see her again.

As the Sparrow grew older, he had met many female sparrows, but never felt the same connectivity to any of them. He believed that one day the Woman would return, and all would be well. He understood that there would always be physical limitations, but it was her presence that he desired. He knew that if only she would return, they would be eternally happy; always together, but forever apart. The End