When people ask about my home, my answer is, “I live in a small condo on a small urban lake.” The word small represents 605 square feet (almost “Tiny” status) and around the lake is a 20-minute walk. I have a comfy, cozy one-bedroom end unit with a sweet lake view and deck, and both are visible as I type these words.
I can see my bird feeder through the sliding door in my living room and from my kitchen window, too. As a birder, this is a “quality of life” necessity. Granted, there are fewer birds here than when I lived a small country home in thick oak woods with multiple feeders, but I’ve sighted eagles, ospreys, herons, numerous duck species—even loons (!) from the comfort of my kitchen window. It’s glorious.
Gazing at the feeder this morning while getting ready for a meeting, I could see birds pecking at the last piece of suet in the feeder, one of them in a strange acrobatic pose. At first, I thought nuthatch, as they spend a lot of time upside down. But something seemed off. Checking a few minutes later, the bird was still in this odd, not normal position.
Then I figured it out. A House Sparrow’s head protruded through one of the wire suet feeder squares while its body was trapped inside. I grabbed a pair of soft dress gloves, detached the suet feeder and launched a rescue. At first, I tried to gently pull the bird up and out of the feeder, but that didn’t work.
I then turned the feeder upside down to create an exit route while gently nudging the bird’s head back inside to free it. The bird was so still I wondered if it was dead, but it immediately slipped down, fluttered out and flew away with strong, audible wingbeats. Though it was “just” a sparrow, I felt good about saving it. I got to see its feathers up close and personal; vivid dark and reddish browns set against its bright white breast. I’ve seen a thousand sparrows in my life but have never been this close to one. It wasn’t “just” a sparrow. It was beautiful.
© 2025. Leslie Charles, Speaker, Author, Funeral-life Celebrant. leslie@lesliecharles.com