Death and Blue Jays

I've always liked Blue Jays.  When I was younger, there used to be a family that would visit my backyard every sundown.  A father, and mother, and their adventurous son, whom I called Lil Mischief.  I used to talk to them, ever so softly, and often held my hand out, pretending to be an Indian Princess whom all the woodland creatures would flock to and congregate around.  They never flew to me.  But we had a rapport.  I'm pretty sure they knew me.  Whether they thought I was crazy or kind, I do not know.  But nonetheless, I feel a particular fondness for the birds of blue.

Today, as I was riding my bike home, I looked over, and there, in the bushes, was a poor, wounded Jay.  My heart jumped out of my chest and rushed to him.  The rest of me followed, but the closer I got, the farther he would hobble away.  Most of his left wing was missing, and he looked pretty bad off.  [I couldn't hate cats more!] :-P  I wanted so much for him to know I was a friend.  Why is there this strange mistrust amongst man and animal? 

The funny thing is, lately, I have felt rather numb.  Deep down I have longed to be able to cry... about SOMETHING, but I haven't been able to.  I've had plenty of reason to, lately.  But my tear ducts, for whatever reason, have been currently blocked.  I went and sat in the bushes and talked to him, telling him I wanted to help, soothing him and praying for him (it's okay, to pray for birds, right?).  Another Jay came over to us, to check things out.  It was so tragic.



It was the closest I got to crying these last few months.

I started day dreaming of all the things I could do for him.  I could save him, and keep him in a box and protect him, and nurse him back to health.  Then we could be the best of friends.  But the reality was, he was half dead.  He's out there, now.  He'll die tonight. It's a pity the creatures God makes must die like this.  Oh, why do I have to like Blue Jays, so much? :-(