The Reward

I find in writing Friend's Story that I am reliving many of the emotions I experienced during his convalescence and as the narrative comes to an end, it is almost as difficult to conclude as it was to release him. There were so many things at work here, not the least of which was the fact that only a few weeks prior to Friend's arrival, I had lost a much-loved little kitty during a routine surgery. Soon, I would be setting Friend free into all the uncertainties of the big, wide world. I'd entered into this project with full knowledge of the responsibility and a commitment to do right by this bird. I did not expect a reward of any type, and yet it came to me.

From the beginning, Friend had allowed me to touch his breast feathers with a fingertip while he was perched on his branch or on the edge of the box. When he was free in the bedroom and flying from one roosting place to another, he seldom let me get closer than the width of the music stand. This photo shows an event which only happened once: Friend permitted my touch, and then took my fingertip with his foot and held it for at least a minute. The following day, his natural instincts reasserted themselves. He even seemed wary of me, almost frightened. This was the sign I had hoped for and yet dreaded. Now my head and my heart agreed that it was time.