Posted by Holly at November 2nd, 2009
Most days, Wilbur sits plumped up in his aviary, on the ledge Jim built for him because he seemed to favor the high up spot where he can look out over the wisteria and rhodies that add feet to the porch railing. Sometimes he will suddenly start to flap his wings as if he is a helicopter revving up to go. Or, maybe, he is exercising because, big as the aviary is, he doesn’t get to fly any great distance and never really gets anywhere. Or, maybe, he is trying to tell us he wants to get out. We are toying with the idea of releasing him because his tail feathers and wing feathers are completely grown back.
Wilbur can fly. Can he live on his own, we don’t know. Can he find a way to elude the barn cats and Trouble, the dog who plucked him in the first place? Yesterday I would have said it was worth a shot because he really shouldn’t have to be caged. Today, I’m not so sure.
This morning Wilbur was terrorized by a hawk. Out of the blue, the hawk appeared with its muscular body and stubby checkered tail, flying agressively back and forth outside of the fencing, following Wilbur’s frantic flight. Wilbur stretched his nect to about triple its size and was fast as he tried to get away from the hawk. It could never have gotten him but I don’t imagine Wilbur knew that. The cats were stark still on the inside of the window wall of the aviary. I doubt they’d ever experienced the predator state and their eyes were big as saucers. They’ve spent the rest of the day alternating spots at the slightly open window and back door. I’m not sure if they are waiting for the action to start up again from their front row seat; or, figuring out a way to get out there and get that vulnerable pigeon themselves.
My own reaction was to chase off that hawk as fast as I could. It flew to a tree right nearby and came back twice more. As all of our jangled nerves settled down, I thought about the food chain and I thought about the hawk and its possible fate at the beak of some other, larger predator. I was glad I could find sympathy for the hawk but happier, still, that Wilbur is safe and sound inside his aviary outside my window. It will be some time before I can think about his departure again.
