Holding This Sparrow

4 November 2021

Plates of Late

YOLK (Saskia), HOME GRL, ♥ WAIFUU (Mitch), BUGSRFUN (Saskia), SPAG, WORMSIGN, MS ROSIE, DO HAIKU, CRAWDADS, ISABOBI, IMTRUBLE (Maia)

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I’m thinking of a bird. It’s very small, about the size of a mouse. It’s reddish brown on top and flecked with beige spots underneath. It has a pale pink beak and dark, ambiguous legs. It may or may not be from around here. Three years ago, it flew into McMaster’s Engineering Technology Building, incorrectly judging its seamless blue windows as more sky. Finding it injured, I tried, and failed, to save it.

But who was “I”?

The start of second year was a wild goose chase for my bearings in a somehow-not-new city. I’d already witnessed a few miracles that year, the most memorable of which being the face of a man in a photo I took of the clouds at sunset in Kingston, where I’d lived for most of my adolescence. Being back in my hometown of Hamilton, this time as an adult of sorts rather than a 13-year-old, made miracles jump out at me like it was nothing. That fall I discovered and rediscovered new neighbourhoods, shops, and buildings on campus as fast as my feet let me. I was blown away by the depth of Churchill Park, in a corner of Westdale I’d never had a reason to visit, when I took my first slice of Pizza Nova there. With my student pass, I rode the bus to what I thought was No Man’s Land (just east of Wellington) on a rainy Saturday evening. Still on my $30 secondhand suit streak, I was hitting up all kinds of thrift stores downtown to fill my closet. I was doing fine in school, still half-online, but excelling in my 80-person social bubble called Arts & Science. The house Mitchell and I lived in, like all the others, got that lead-pipes notice early on, so I was getting my water from campus fountains with the help of three 1-litre bottles. My narrow yellow room was two floors upstairs from the kitchen I used in the basement, so I was probably eating less. I was indecisive about growing facial hair, not only with my new independence, but after entering the pandemic with a chin strap and spending 2021 seeing how wild my hair could get. It was the most like a fictional character I have ever felt, and ever wish to feel. I hope you understand what I mean.

Phonetics tutorials were in person on Thursdays, then I had two Artsci classes to follow. I think it was during phonetics that I found out economics was cancelled that day, which meant I’d have a bit more time to myself before SPT at 11:30. I headed home from MDCLL, passing between ETB and ITB down that shady, windy path. I was surprised to see a little brown bird on the ground, moving energetically but clearly injured. My first thought was to call animal control, but I couldn’t find a number, so I hastily tried the aviary, if only for advice. They didn’t pick up, so I left a message. Found a sparrow or something, looks like it hit this building, can you do anything. I wasn’t going to just leave the bird there, so I quickly looked up what to do and brought it home with me.

From that corner of campus it’s a 5–10 minute walk to Hollywood, depending on the timing of the lights. I wasn’t racewalking like I usually did, what with the injured bird clam-shelled between my black leather gloves. I made no effort to really hide the poor thing, in case someone passing by would be able to help. When I arrived home, all I could think about was what the hell I would do if it recovered and started flying around my bedroom. It did not occur to me that I could have left it on the porch, then brought out anything it needed. Whatever, I felt noble. The internet said to keep it in an open box on soft bedding, and to refrain from feeding it. I laid the twitching sparrow on a dish towel inside my bike helmet, then lowered that into a shoebox on my table. Half an hour went by as I watched it from the chair next to my bed, occasionally lightly touching the bird to see if it reacted. But I must have touched it one too many times, because it eventually stopped moving and visibly breathing. I immediately felt like it was my fault that it died, forgetting the building that’s all windows. Another 30 minutes passed.

I ate the last of a box of Triscuits, then wrapped the sparrow in tissues and put it in the paper box. That then went in a plastic freezer bag, and the bag in my backpack. I rode my bike down the rail trail to the Dundas Valley Conservation Area, not wearing my helmet or my gloves. I locked the bike, then walked up a trail for a while before arriving at a corner with a bench. I buried it in the leaves a few paces behind the bench, and sat to catch my breath. I made it back for class after 11, making sure to wash my hands and packing my books in a tote bag.

During the break in SPT, I got up for a walk around PG, the living-and-learning cathedral with eight floors of residence above classrooms and lecture halls. My wandering mind brought me down to a back hallway in the basement, where I got in an elevator to return to the mezzanine. The damn thing wasn’t taking me anywhere, and didn’t open again once it closed. The lights went out a second after I pressed Help. I tried to text Jan that I’d be late to class, but there was no reception. Two security guys came to ask me my name, likely assuming I lived in the building and forgot my student card¹. Since that elevator serviced all floors, I realized, I would have needed to scan something to not get locked in. When I made it back to class 10 minutes late, Jan had just received my message. I told no one what might have led me to get stuck in an elevator on that particular day.

That weekend I called my dad to tell him about the bird, knowing he’d understand. Then, I called Kristen. We’re housemates now, so it might not seem strange that I’d reach out to her, but we had had one conversation up to that point. She’d just finished a painting of a cormorant, one of my favourite birds, and I asked her if I could share it on my Instagram. It was that way I knew she appreciated birds, and could “get” how I was feeling. It could just have easily been Flynn I called, who’s now doing a master’s in ornithology. Nowadays it would have been Tess without a second thought, but I didn’t know how much she loved ducks back then. I just wanted confirmation that this happened, because it felt like nobody else was around. No heads turned on Main St when I carried it home, and no one was on the Sawmill Trail that morning to pass by and ask me what was on my mind.

I took no photos of the bird, at first out of urgency, then out of respect. But as I sat and watched it die, I tried to identify its species with my two field guides. It most resembled a fox sparrow, though it was probably a song sparrow, since the former doesn’t live in cities. But wouldn’t a song sparrow know how to deal with a wall of glass?

I’m generally against getting a tattoo because I worry I’d never be happy with my choice of what to permanently put on my body. That sparrow, whatever it was, may well be the one thing I’d seriously consider “immortalizing”. I’m sure this is one of those look-back-in-two-years moments, but I’m not in a rush. I won’t forget what it looked like.

I go to that bench every now and then and talk to the bird I couldn’t save. Early on, I felt remorseful and confused. Now, I’m not so sure what I feel. I’m not the speedwalking, water-carrying blur of a 19-year-old I was then. Yes, I sleep on the same twin mattress, and I still weigh the pros and cons of sideburns every time I shave. But these days, all my pants have holes in the crotch from walking too hard, and I can’t take the bus any which way anymore because I have to pay for it. Not to mention all of you who get to hear whatever thoughts I want to share, rather than being picked in an acquaintance lottery. Now, the whole thing feels like a story someone else told me, in painful detail. It must be time for another trip to the conversation area. I’ll check in again soon.

Next up, a meaningless piece about how my smart watch isn’t very smart but I still love it. Be sure not to miss it.

1. The next time I found myself trapped like this, that following April, I made sure not to identify myself to authorities.