First post

 

Chirping her way in, the little sparrow made the grand entry in the nest, the nest its all but ugly, made comfortable by lining the floor with softest of feathers and cotton and bits of fabric collected over an endless number of flights, well, that was just the bedding. How about the walls then, fine twigs from the softest and tender grass were collected, sorted, and carefully weaved one by one, creating a small shallow and eventually finishing it with another smoothest upholstery of feathers and cotton. Such is the nest of our common sparrow.

Perched high on the branches of a fig tree, this sparrow has made her third brooding nest. This she does without exhaustion, it’s the natural urge to pass on the genes and with it the experience of this little life. Insignificant, not even close.

 

It was raining and summer was just heating up, the sun was too tired of being cold, and was getting hot, for it too, doesn’t like the cold weather. There up in the neem tree, amongst three of other little eggs, our little sparrow broke her shell and took a breath of fresh summer air. Stuffed on the yolk, she was a little overweight, in modern times, people insecure about such things would surely go bulimic. But fat is necessary, for it burns and provides strength to muscles and sinews to create wings and later to fly in the air. This plump chick, our little sparrow, immediately craved for more food, as if she suffered famine of the worst nature and all she could do was chirp and open her tiny beak, entreating her mother to spew a morsel, which she would greedily gorge and ask for more.

Life was very easy in the nest for our little sparrow, for there were no dangers to be afraid of until one day a Slitherine happen to climb the same tree. Her mother did all she could and eventually managed to lead it away from the nest. Ensconced, in the fork cavity of two branches, her mother has created a perfect home for our sparrow and her other siblings, perhaps it's the ancient wisdom of nest building that saved our sparrow’s life. She, our little sparrow, learned her first lesson in the dangers of life book.

When three weeks old and teeming with energy and life, and proud of her small little feathers morphed to wings, our little sparrow made her first maiden flight. Not far, just outside the nest, it was exhilarating. It gave a boost to the urge of flying a little farther and by the by, our little sparrow alighted on the soft earth below the neem tree, excited she chirped and announced to the world that she is ready to conquer it in VENI. VIDI. VICI. Style. This ambition lasted only for a few minutes, when our little sparrow flew again to its nest, disturbed by the army of ants whose jaws could still nip her soft skin.

 

So much for conquering the world, but she is our common sparrow and failure doesn’t come in her small bird’s dictionary, she would tomorrow take another flight, and then chirp the same announcement. For her determination is like the mountain river, which will flow cutting smaller mountains to meet the ocean one day. Nor are her dreams small, for she will one day look down upon the earth and over all its creatures with the eye of god.  She would be amused at the lofty cement trees with many cavities coming up in the sky and at mammals, who call it their home. The strange creatures, she will think of them. For they are the worst, creating trees to live in its cavities and not on its branches. She would look up and see metal birds and be amazed at the size and get jealous for their ability to soar so high and chirp so loud.

But today, she will fly with her mother, towards a mud pond, known to serve the most delicious of the worms, which after the heat when the mud is thickening are getting out of their cramped pods.

 

(To be continued in the next series….)