For the love of sparrows: A feathered nest of memories from childhood and adolescence
Sparrows generally don’t get good press.
Bird enthusiasts often find them drab and banal, and others label them invasive species and disparage them as scavenger gourmets.
But there are so many reasons to adore sparrows.
My wife loves them because they are chipper and full of beans.
I can’t resist the urge to anthropomorphize these resilient puff balls, ascribing human characteristics to them and seeing in them our shared fate.
At Sunday school and at church in Georgetown of the 1950s and 1960s, we sang about the humble sparrow:
God sees the little sparrow fall,
It meets His tender view;
If God so loves the little birds,
I know He loves me, too.
This hymn provided comfort during the maelstrom of childhood, and my loss of belief in a deity’s omniscient tenderness and concern – the poisoned fruit of adolescent skepticism – has dogged me since my teenage years in London, Ontario, when I shocked my parents with the strident carping of the unbeliever.
As my tired wings are being definitively clipped with old age, the sparrow has become a sort of totem bird for me.
Most of us would no doubt prefer to be cardinals or bluebirds, flashing extraordinary plumage.
But we remain “little birds”, sparrows chirping resolutely as we flutter into the void.
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
P.S.
Here are two blog entries about sparrows from discerning and sympathetic birders:
Why I love sparrows – 10,000 Birds
https://maryannsteggles.com/2021/10/01/for-the-love-of-sparrows/
And here’s a beautiful poem about sparrows by the inimitable Mary Oliver:
P.P.S.
My father built elaborate bird feeders when I was a child in Georgetown and an adolescent in London. A vast array of feathered visitors feasted at these way stations, and we feasted on their beauty and charm.
