A Sparrow Story

While standing on the Loop el platform waiting for CTA to accommodate me and send a Brown Line train my way, I saw a sparrow hopping around on the planks behind me. It was small, as all sparrows are, but plump for its species.

Nonetheless, the sparrow appeared to be pecking for whatever crumbs some careless commuter might have dropped on the hurried way into the pausing-none-too-long maw of the el car. Finally, it found something worthy of the effort--from my vantage point, it appeared to be a Wheat Thin or some other kind of tiny snack cracker.

Just as it had begun to fill its beak with no-doubt morsels, two pigeons, each easily dwarfing the sparrow, landed on either side of the feasting area and began consuming the sparrow's hard-won meal.

This would not do.

After the sparrow had fled to a rusting support beam about 10 feet away, I walked over to where the pigeons were busily working away at the cracker. I did not yell, stomp my feet, kick or swing my workbag or hat. I just stood there, too close for comfort for the pair of avian interlopers.

I've been told that I'm an intimidating physical presence. I imagine that the effect is magnified for birds, for the two pigeons edged away from me, then took flight for heights or depths unknown.

I picked up the cracker and carefully moved over to the decaying support beam, where the sparrow remained patiently perched. I set the cracker down a few feet away and slowly stepped back. It eyed me warily until I'd moved far enough away for safety, then bounced over to its prize, scooped it up in its tiny beak and flew away.

Exactly.