Locomotoring

Last weekend, after nearly 6 years, we got the external windows cleaned. The first and last time we got them cleaned was when Mikiko had come by for post-remodel professional photographs (link). Even before the proverbial water had dried, the female of the pair ran into the window, with a loud soft thud. It isn’t that I don’t know that windows are the second biggest killer of birds in US (link). But it had never happened before.

When I found a stunned female finch laying on her side, right outside the kitchen door, I wasn’t sure what the protocol was. She looked like my resin house sparrow, stiff. I put on a pair of gloves and picked her up. She chirped but didn’t react otherwise. I expected her to weigh a little, as little as a penny, but I couldn’t feel her weight. Instead, I felt her heart beating. It had the same cadence as mine. I gently put her upright in a flowering pot, supported by succulents. She stayed upright without moving. Then she closed her eyes, as if meditating.

By then, I had learned the protocol. No shoe boxes were to be found. I covered the pot in a stiff paperbag to give her the recommended darkness. And, she rested. I checked on her every 15 minutes. She looked a little more active every time but was quiet. She didn’t preen. She didn’t chirp.

I got a little anxious so I called my mom. She has always been good with pets. She helped calm me down.

By the time I was done chatting with her, darkness had fallen. I didn’t want to leave her on the balcony at the mercy of four legged night prowlers. So I brought the pot into the courtyard (aka aangan), the paperbag still in place. I heard her flutter around which gave me hope. I took off the paperbag and there she was, quietly perching on the edge of the pot. She stayed there for a while. I switched off the aangan lights. This was the safest spot I could find for this wild creature. There are other plants in the aangan, including a newly growing Rangpur lime tree, surrounded by english sorrels.

I wish I had waited to watch her fly away. I didn’t. Instead, I slept fitfully. I woke up early and found her gone.

I hope she is alright. I hope her babies didn’t cry while she was gone. I hope her partner is glad to have her back. I hope she didn’t lose her memory of the event to the concussion. I hope she tells the other birds to not be daft and watch where they are going.

And I need to figure out a window strategy so cleaning them doesn’t come at a cost. I might not be so lucky next time. And if I don’t figure it out, the windows will have to do without any further cleaning.