Final Arizona Postcard: Communing With Sparrows; Paying Respects

Always melancholy is the final day of my visit to Scottsdale.  I'm back in Chicago now, catching up on writing about events from the last day of our adventure.

Tuesday morning we decided to have a leisurely breakfast away from the condo. We had seen Arcadia Farms Cafe on numerous treks to Downtown Scottsdale, and even stopped last year.  The early morning sun, the delicately landscaped front garden, and the aroma of honeysuckle and orange blossoms invited us for a special morning.

While we sat at our patio table enjoying coffee and a starter strawberry shortcake (instead of the typical sweet roll), a small sparrow landed on the back of an unoccupied chair.

It boldly cocked its head in a brazen request for a handout.  Soon, two, three sparrows were on the chair or on the table, looking at us in silent animation, flying a short distance if we moved. 

The sparrows were tame, and used to taking handouts from softies like us.  They were cute and mischievous as puppies.  I broke off a piece of shortcake and dropped it.  All three dashed to the ground to get their share. 

One had a big crumb sticking on his beak, looking like as if to say, "It wasn't me!!"

All through breakfast these sparrows kept us company.  I talked to them. But I resisted any further feedings.

After the meal, as Mark went to wash up, one of the more colorful sparrows returned, landed on the edge of Mark's dish, and started taking bits of food!  Until the server came and took it all away.

A small, unimportant event in the scheme of things.  Still, I will never forget it.

*        *        *        *

Later on Tuesday afternoon I paid my respects to Sam and Lucy, my grandparents.

Lucy died in 1985; Sam in 2001.  They rest next each other in St. Francis Cemetery, in a tranquil vault with a perpetually running fountain right in front of them.

(It's fitting that they are in a place named after the patron saint of animals, Italy, and the environment.)

It was an emotional, reflective, beautiful moment.

The two chairs sitting outside of the condo where they lived, and where we now visit, seemingly remain unoccupied, but in memory at least, they are still there...

And so, after a final dinner at our favorite Tortilla factory, and one last trip to the Gelato Spot, we were ready to make our return trip.

Many thanks to all of you who "accompanied" us on our trip, by checking in, enjoying the "Post-Cards", and even sending messages of your own.

Coming for the weekend: Final thoughts on the Arizona adventure; Sidney Lumet's most influential films (to me); "Source Code".

"Maria...I Just Met A Goose Named Maria!"--Short Take #1

In a respite from their undercover exposés, informing us of the horrors faced by farm animals, and encouraging us to save these animals by not eating them, the Mercy For Animals organization brought to my attention a story aired on CBS news in February.

Last May, Dominic Ehler, a retired salesman from Los Angeles, was followed on his walk by a goose.  Maria, as Ehler named the goose, waited every day for Ehler's visit.  Ehler obliged, and walked with the smitten bird whenever he visited.  Maria was protective, or possessive, hissing at dogs and other creatures who sought to get to close to her newly-adopted "beau".

Maria even tried to go home with Ehler, flying alongside of him as he started off on his scooter.

If the sad and horrific stories captured by MFA investigators don't shock us away from eating meat, then maybe these stories about the mysterious bonds that exist between animal and human will convince us.

Some of you may have seen this warm and humorous video on Katie Couric's news last month--
(Click here for the story on the MFA web site:)



UPDATE: During the relocation of the bird from Echo Park for the renovation project, "Maria" was found to be a gander.  No matter....s/he is beautiful by whatever name....

Dominic still visits Maria/Mario at the Los Angeles Zoo, while the bird remains there until the 2-year project is completed.  (Read the follow-up story here in the Los Angeles Times.)

A Baby Pigeon Saved My Life Today--Tuesday Journal

As soon as we arrived at the Wellness Center to begin warm-ups for our workout, we noticed, just outside the picture windows, an unusual bird walking aimlessly on the frozen-snow-covered grass. It was the size of a full-grown robin, maybe larger, but it had the fuzzy small feathers of a baby bird. Soon, other people gathered around the window as if at a maternity ward incubator. No one was sure of the type of bird it was. Too large to be a sparrow, too small and too early to be a goose….it had a beak like an albatross, and a skinny, bald neck.



All he wanted was to come in. He walked toward the window, peered inside, and tried to flap his way into the warmth, tumbling back each time as his pointed beak hit the window.


A sibling bird that must have fallen from the same nest, somewhere on top of the building or near a heated vent, lay lifeless on the grass.


It was a very cold late afternoon, and fortunately I was wearing my sweat pants (not shorts as usual) when I went out with my towel to bring the poor creature in. Mark made sure the door remained unlocked as I followed the (now frightened) bird around the yard. This bird almost outran me, and I had not even hit the track yet.


I gently laid the towel over the bird’s head and scooped it up in both hands, creating a warm “nest” for him to lie within, and so his head could stick out.


My first impulse was to take him home. Then I realized that I was deficient in my knowledge of the type of bird he was, and the appropriate way to nurse him. Mark remembered a local feed store and animal sanctuary nearby that would take in orphaned animals--Animal Feeds and Needs. We both tacitly agreed, and as I held the creature, drawing curious onlookers and sympathetic comments, Mark got our coats from the lockers.


The attendants at the front desk assisted us by providing us with a cardboard box to place the swaddled little bird inside for the brief car ride.


Mark drove and was sensitive to slow down on curves and avoid bumps in the road. In the car, the bird and I regarded each other easily. I spoke softly, looking back at the one black beady eye that faced me. He chirped softly at times, and soon stretched his neck until I thought he would try to escape. Instead, he began to preen the terrycloth of the white towel wrapped around him.


The Animal Feeds and Needs people welcomed Mark and I and our little boxed passenger. One of their employees happened to be a wild bird expert. Jeff removed the critter from the towel and lightly examined the beak. It was a baby pigeon. He was happy to take this bird into his care, and raise it along with his pet blackbird. He would name our pigeon friend, “December”.


I felt less stupid then, for not knowing the type of bird he was. Pigeons are by nature cliff-dwellers, and in our “urban” environment, they build their messy nests of twigs and mud on top of tall buildings. Females lay only 2 eggs at a time, so this mother’s entire progeny were lost to her prematurely. Female pigeons are usually very good mothers. It is extremely rare to see baby pigeons (or squabs, to the gourmets out there).


We left the shop to return to our workout, already missing the little guy we bonded with, and who would have adopted us as his caregiver if we held him any longer---pigeons, if raised by hand, become tame, and make nice pets. (When they mature, they can actually attempt to mate with their human caregivers.)


“December”, the little pigeon, was placed in my life today. I was stirred by an instinct to care for this helpless bird…I gave it no thought…. When I find my life in free-fall, these small incidents provide purpose, energy, and I see then where my value as a person lies.

I was quite emotional on the drive back to the gym. I reassured Mark that I was not upset. Although I mourned for the one I couldn’t save, I rejoiced that, small and insignificant as December’s life seemed, Mark and I helped save him from pain, and cold death.


Wherever my life takes me, or whatever changes I choose to make, I am reassured that to remain close to the creatures that need us so badly provides me with one of my life’s transcendent satisfactions.

(For more information on caring for fledgling pigeons, see these articles by Hannah Holmes and
Frank Mosca)