Friend's Return

That was not the last I saw of Friend. He returned that day and perched in the contorted filbert favored by all my feathered friends. He would allow me to come within eight or ten feet of him, often turning his head on the side and chirping at me. Over the next week, he made daily visits, still easily identifiable by the mass on his leg. There were still a few "porchies" hanging around, and I was happy to see that he picked up with them. Whether they were part of his original flock, I have no idea, but when they left a few weeks later, Friend went with them.

The arrival of the Evening Grosbeaks in January had been untimely. Normally, they'd show up here any time between March and May to stay through early or mid-September. A flock returned in April and one of them seemed far less anxious around me than the others. That bird had a pale leg which exhibited an enlarged aspect, although not as greatly as I remembered Friend's. Was it possible that repeated exposure to rain had washed away encrusted feces? Given the bird's more comfortable demeanor toward me when I was filling the feeders, I was almost entirely convinced Friend had returned. Nearly every day that summer, I had to say, "Move over so I can pour the seeds in there, guy!" when I went to replenish the trays.

It might seem hard to believe, but the following year also saw the return of a less cautious bird, one who would sit on a branch of the contorted filbert while I chatted at it, standing not ten feet from its perch. I could not say for certain that it was Friend, because any identifying "band" had long since disappeared. And this year (the second summer since I released Friend), a male Grosbeak walked casually up my sidewalk and stood a few feet from my toes, head cocked to one side, making eye contact with me. The friends who have encouraged me to write this story believe it was my small Friend, back again. Was it? Grosbeaks may live up to 25 years, according to some sources.

My acquaintance with Friend was brief, but without a doubt, it was the most profound experience of my lifetime. The trust he gave me, the reward of that minute when we "held hands" cannot be matched by anything else I have achieved. Fly up, Friend! Fly! And my heart flies with you.