An olive thrush with a broken wing is an inspiration to Abré J Steyn, having overcome what to other birds would have been a death sentence. His courage and tenacity is a lesson for all humankind.
It was early morning in the city. I was depressed by all the restlessness and noise in which I was engulfed. I sat slumped in my wheelchair in front of the security door of my small bedroom, looking out on a rather featureless back garden and I felt like a bird in a cage. I watched the Indian mynas and white fan-tailed pigeons without much interest, when suddenly a small brown object streaked across the lawn. It looked like a super-charged rat. I sat upright and grabbed my binoculars. When it stopped, to my surprise I recognised his misshapen form – it was Kanniedood! I thought of the first day I’d held him in my hands. He was an olive thrush and his wing was broken at the joint. Caught by the dogs in the garden, he’d somehow managed to escape with his life. I knew he would never fly again.
My grandchildren found him in the garage where he’d fled to evade his attackers. My grandson, Tiaan, who is my little soulmate, has a soft heart and was very concerned about the little bird and wanted me to take it to a rehab centre. When I told him it was a very common bird and because nobody could fix such a badly broken wing, it would be better to end its suffering, his sister, Lise, burst into tears.
The thrush struggled in my hands and uttered loud shrieks of protest, which brought a similar, somewhat smaller bird twittering out of the shrubbery to perch near us. I realised it was his mate. Against what I thought was my better judgement, I agreed that if the children kept it for a while in the darkness of a cardboard box to recover from its traumatic experience, they could release him in a quiet corner of the garden. Feeling a little guilty to leave him to his own devices like that, I didn’t expect to ever see him alive again. However this little bird was about to teach me a lesson I wouldn’t easily forget.
In the days that followed, the children repeatedly saw him slinking through the thick underbrush of the unkempt part of the garden, where they’d released him. It then became clear that despite his disability he could possibly survive, so we named him Kanniedood (“Die-Hard”).
Thrushes find most of their food on the ground and the fact that he couldn’t fly gave him even more time to search for worms. I frequently watched him catching worm after worm on the lawn bordering his shady sanctuary. As time went by, he grew bolder and increasingly ventured further afield until the whole big garden was his domain again.
But he was a changed bird. Grounded, with his broken wing still crooked and drooping badly, he’d become a sprinter. He streaked across the lawn from one corner of the garden to the other like a greased rat. No lazy, overweight house dog ever stood a chance of catching him again. Kanniedood had fully adapted to his disability and was developing new techniques to function as a bird again, without the use of his wings.
The first thing he learned to do was climb the rope ladder of the children’s jungle gym, and from there to jump onto the concrete security wall and then into the big tree above. He’d hop from branch to branch until he reached the very top and it wasn’t long before he learned to jump from the tree onto the roof of the house to be king of the castle again, from where he could loudly proclaim his territory. Three months later, Kanniedood helped his mate on the lawn to keep two new chicks stuffed with worms.
All of us can learn something from him. Who hasn’t met with life’s misfortunes? Perhaps the loss of an essential limb as in Kanniedood’s case, the loss of general physical ability or of a handsome appearance, which will one day befall everyone who lives long enough? But if it happens early in life, it can change your entire destiny.
It could, however, be something quite different, something much more spiritual like the loss of a loved one, either through death or divorce, or the death of a beloved child.
It could be a material loss like losing your job, home, farm, financial security or worse – through foolishness, you could lose your freedom and dignity by being imprisoned. There’s no doubt that life’s full of mishaps, but it’s just as true that it’s also full of challenging opportunities. It just depends on how you look at it.
This little bird is to me, in some respects, a mirror of my life. Having had a “broken wing” since childhood, I’ve had to climb great obstacles to be a successful wildlife scientist and field sportsman.
Things haven’t gone too smoothly for me lately and I’ve suffered serious setbacks and losses. That’s why I was sitting depressed and slumped in my wheelchair, until I saw my little hero again. Suddenly I realised I can’t allow a few mishaps to cast a shadow over me and once more, my spirit soared like an eagle.
Everyone’s born with certain talents, usually more than can be used in a single lifetime. Kanniedood lost the most important talent a bird can have – his powers of flight. But his wings weren’t everything – he still had legs.
With them he has climbed to the top of the highest tree to cup the first rays of the morning sun in his throat, while singing his cheerful song that despite his loss, life was still great and worth living to the full.
I will henceforth be a kanniedood once more and so can you!
Contact Abré J Steyn on 083 235 4822 or e-mail [email protected]. |fw
