One spring day, when I was working as a graduate assistant at Mississippi State University, I sat in my third floor office next to an open window. It was the magic hour, the pause as day dwindles and the twilight looms. A cool breeze carried the scent of the magnolias in bloom, just across the sidewalk below.
A little sparrow flew from the tree and perched on the window sill, not three feet from me. As he groomed his feathers, I wondered at his fearlessness. As I looked closer, I realized that his eye, the one on the side of his head facing me, had been obliterated by some mishap. I watched for some moments, moving even closer. He finally stopped grooming, took a few hops, and turned my way. He looked straight at me with his one good eye, not flying away immediately, considering me as I considered him.
But sensible discretion bloomed in his tiny mind. He turned away, paused, took one look back at me. Then he launched himself into the approaching dusk, probably to roost in the magnolia tree.
One spring day, when I was working as a graduate assistant at Mississippi State University, I sat in my third floor office next to an open window. It was the magic hour, the pause as day dwindles and the twilight looms. A cool breeze carried the scent of the magnolias in bloom, just across the sidewalk below.
A little sparrow flew from the tree and perched on the window sill, not three feet from me. As he groomed his feathers, I wondered at his fearlessness. As I looked closer, I realized that his eye, the one on the side of his head facing me, had been obliterated by some mishap. I watched for some moments, moving even closer. He finally stopped grooming, took a few hops, and turned my way. He looked straight at me with his one good eye, not flying away immediately, considering me as I considered him.
But sensible discretion bloomed in his tiny mind. He turned away, paused, took one look back at me. Then he launched himself into the approaching dusk, probably to roost in the magnolia tree.