blue jay spirit

I’ve just come back from visiting orphaned and injured songbirds. There were dozens of healthy birds, well on their way to eventual release, but I found myself drawn to the few “unreleasables,” birds too injured to make it on their own.

One in particular, a blue jay, came toward me. He couldn’t fly, but he hopped, jumped and tumbled his way around, and then looked me in the eye – a direct, knowing look. I, healthy and free to go, felt lucky and unworthy in his eyes.

He didn’t deny his pain, but he was still more cheerful and lively than I have felt in a long, long time. He held my gaze, confident and unafraid – everything a blue jay could be. For the first time in a long, long time I am beginning to feel the same spark in me that I see in him.