A bird or a message?

The other morning at work, Monday me thinks, around 7 or maybe 9 A.M. I was walking to the front of the shop near the break/lunch area and something moving caught my eye. It was something moving someplace where nothing should be moving. Something was a foot, or more to the precise point, something was a flutter. A young bird was in the shop. It had just wiggled its way out if its nest up in the vent intake to the building. Instead of going outside where it belonged, it turned inside and fluttered to the shop floor. Now first off this seems strange because it come inside to where it was dark instead of going outside into the bright morning sun. This young bird was trying to fly and any minute now it might get the hang of it, but more than likely it was just going to bang off stuff until it got itself hurt. In nature there are no roofs, and the ground outdoors isn't usually covered with sharp metal shavings. The inside of a machine shop was no place for a young bird to learn to fly. This was not the place where he should have come, he took a wrong turn and without some help he wasn't most likely going to make it.

I, being the first on the scene and the shop foreman decided that it should be my responsibility to protect the bird from this hostile environment, and to protect the employees from any calamity the discombobulated bird might cause. So, to this important task I assigned my silly self. I approached the bird at a casual walking pace and the bird fled from me. There were two other employees milling around (machine shop pun, sorry) in the area. Initially they both offered me some assistance in a least keeping track of the bird. After a few moments I think it become obvious to all of us that the more people involve the more bird tried to flee into small dark inaccessible corners. My assistants left me to my work of tracking the bird.

The shop is full of dock doors that provided ample opportunity for the bird to make an exit out into the light of the day, but the more I tried to corral the bird towards the light, the more the bird scurried and fluttered away under tables, under shelves, in corners any small little cramped dark space it felt safe from me. I realized that although I was doing my best and putting forth great effort early this morning to help save this poor bird, the bird was more frightened of my large imposing presents that it was afraid of the place it was in. The bird, having a bird brain of course, could not reason or understand the danger it was in. I knew it was in immanent danger, but the bird only sensed the danger that it felt I presented. I knew the bird needed saved from its situation, but the bird had no idea. Do you have any idea how hard it is to save something that doesn't want saved?

I was relentless in my pursuit of the little bird. The more I pursued it however the more diligently it fled. At one point I was able to get close enough to it that we looked each other in the eye. I spoke softly, smooth gentle whispers hoping not to frighten it further. I could see the fear it had in its eyes. It was terrified of me. I knew it was safe, but it didn't know that I wasn't the danger. The bird backed out of the tight little corner it got itself into and then attempted another flight. This time it made it airborne and half way across the shop. It was headed towards the light coming from the 3 open dock doors on the other side of the shop. I felt hopeful that it would make it out this time, but just before it got to the door it veered a hard left and crashed into a pile of plastic stock we have in the corner.

The bird worked itself up into the random pile of plastic pieces trying to hide from me. I again walked towards it. This time I decided that I had had enough of chasing after it and I approached with a different plan. This time I was going to use its fear of me to my advantage. I approached from the open side of the corner it had got itself trapped in. When I did this it pushed further up into its little dark place. I then moved some of the plastic pieces. This time however I did not move things so the the bird could get free on its own and hope it went towards the doors. This time I placed more obstacles around it. I moved things around to trap the bird and prevent it from fleeing anymore. The more I moved things the less room the bird had to maneuver. In a moment or two I had the bird pinned down and the obstacles were so massive and so close the bird had no place to go, it was stuck and trapped by me. The eyes were fixed on me as it struggled even harder to push against the bonds that held it in place, but the walls would not move. It just starred at me like it was hoping I would just go away and leave it alone there. If I did so, it would surely die right there trapped amongst the plastic stock in a dark little place. By now I couldn't blame it for being scared, I was so much bigger than it was, I was almost unimaginably large. I watched it struggle for a moment as I caught my breath from chasing this small creature around for the last 10 minutes. Then I carefully reached my hand down and softly, but firmly grasped this young feathered friend. As I lifted it up out of its situation I kinda hoped it would realize that I meant it no harm. This was not the case however, the bird had been silent up till now, but now it was screaming. It screamed for all it was worth, I imagine I got a good cursing in bird language. I did not let even this deter me from my mission however. I walked over to the most remote dock door, the safest place I could find and with a gentle toss, sent it on its way outside. Now that it was out in the light of day, with no roof and minimal obstacle, it attempted to fly again. Upon the second or third attempt I saw it gain altitude and make its way out to where it belongs. It was now free and safe. I wonder if it still thinks I was the danger?

I then needed to go wash my hands, because who knows what kind of cooties the bird may have had on it, but once I got washed up, all was well.

The above is a too detailed description of an actual event in my life this week.

(Too deep? comment request, if you read it, tell me if you get it)