And Now I Know

I’ve had my share of deeply moving moments in my life, moments that are etched into the fabric of who I am, moments that are sacred and eternal. I offer this moment as an illustration of something I have said, taught, preached about and believed to be holy since childhood. It happened yesterday.

I finished the Shining Spirit reflection about 5:30 a.m., one proposing that prayer, at its simplest and most profound, is conversational, intimate, like two friends laughing and talking as they walk along the boulevard. I picked up a book that I had checked out of our neighborhood library, and then remembered a city park nearby that I had never explored. Sue and I had driven past it the day before and decided to visit the park soon. I knew it had a small lake at its center, which meant that there just might be water birds there. Since I draw great pleasure from photographing beautiful birds, I decided, at 5:40 a.m. on this Sunday morning, to grab my camera and head toward the park. I arrived there at 6:15 a.m….looked at my watch…and found a parking spot among the few cars already there. Fishermen like to get an early start. At first I was disappointed at what I found. A few common ducks were hobbling around, one or two Grackles and at the far end of the lake, two larger birds.

I made my way toward the distant birds, knowing that both would probably fly when they saw me coming. But they didn’t. One of them, pictured above, was a Swan Goose, the other a Snow Goose. I noticed that the Swan Goose was busy grooming his feathers, head down and quite occupied with the task. The Snow Goose waited patiently in the shallow water near the shoreline. Both saw me approaching, and both seemed cautiously curious. I made it to the shoreline and about 15 feet from the pair and began to take pictures. The large Swan Goose went back to grooming. I spoke to both birds: a friendly hello and assurances that I would not hurt them. After a few minutes, both birds began to swim very slowly away from the shore and toward the center of the lake.

It was then that I saw the larger one lift his left leg out of the water and stop abruptly at the same time. Nylon fishing line was wrapped around his leg and he was unable to swim away. How long he had been captured by the line, I don’t know. I called out to him: let me help you, knowing that this wild creature would never trust a human being. And then the unexpected, the unbelievable happened.

The tethered bird turned back toward the shore and slowly, slowly approached me. By this time I had removed my socks and shoes and waded knee-deep into the lake. I stood very still as the beautiful bird came within arm’s reach and then floated to my right leg where he pressed against me. We both remained very still, waiting to see what the other would do. I reached down and touched his back, then stroked his broad chest, all the time telling him not to be afraid. The heart-stopping moment was when I gently lifted him from the water and tucked him under my right arm as I examined his leg. It took several minutes to untangle the line and he was surprisingly patient through it all. When I returned him to the water, he floated for a moment, then began to swim toward his partner. Now the bigger problem was revealed, for the fishing line, while loose from his leg, still held him captive. It rose up out of the water, a sinister, death sentence anchored by a hook through the birds skin. When he reached the end of the strong line, he turned back toward me. I could not believe that he would return to my side, but he did. I tried for several minutes to remove the hook but the barbs would not allow the hook to slide backwards. I had no knife or sharp object to cut the line.

It was then that I heard a voice behind me, coming from the shore. “Can I help?” the man asked. “Do you have a knife?” He did and he tossed it to me so I could cut the line. But the hook remained in place, above the bird’s large left wing. It had made a superficial, shallow entry but it still resisted removal. I tried again for several minutes but the bird grew restless and I finally released him to swim away with his mate. But before he left my side, just as I was releasing him for the last time, he turned his elegant head on that long neck and he gently pecked the top of my hand three times. Then they were gone.

At least he was free. I don’t think carrying the hook, given its location, would impair his flying and now he was free of the death sentence. I still can’t believe this happened. I pinch myself to wake from a remarkable dream. I drove home from the lake with the car window down, singing all the way. In that 30 minute period of my 82 years, I stood on holy ground and the presence of illogical Love proved stronger than reason. Two living creatures crossed the line of conventional normality. We connected in a way that I have talked about, taught, preached about, advocated for….but never experienced.

Until yesterday. And now I know.