Bird Brain

"Blessed are those who dwell in Your house." Psalm 84:4 

We’ve kept a number of pet birds in our house over the years. My daughter, Makayla, loves them, studies them, and knows their quirks and idiosyncrasies and can tell you all about them. Parrots, cockatiels, doves — each have rustled their plumage in our home at one time or another, much to Makayla’s delight.

Not so much for me. 

Birds are loud, messy, social creatures. Their constant squawking throughout the day certainly makes them extroverts. It doesn’t take long before the noise and the lack of agreed-upon-mess-management limits their stay. Much to Makayla’s sadness. 

“That’s it, No more birds.”

Sure enough, within a week, a ringneck dove appeared in hand, carried by a smiling Makayla. Jen gave me one of those looks that said, I thought it was cute.

We’re fully outfitted for birds — nothing else is needed to accommodate another feathered friend. So, against my better judgment, I acquiesced. What could I do? It was already in her room.

Surprisingly, the last months have been just fine. If most birds are extroverted by nature, this dove is introverted in practice. The only clue that she’s in the house is a soft “coo, coo, coo” from time to time. I rather like it.

One evening, while we were all in the living room, Makayla brought Java, the clever coffee-themed name of her dove, and placed her on a tall stool beside her chair. We were all just reading, watching television, and typing away on a laptop. 

Her flight feathers are clipped, so she can’t fly normally. She watches us, stretching wings and sizing up her environment. I sense she’d prefer to be perched somewhere high above where she can see everything.

We had the World Cup playing on the TV. Makayla was typing away at her keyboard. Jen was watching the game while playing one of her own on her phone. I was watching both the game and the bird.

An idea was hatching in Java’s bobbing head. She had an idea and she intended to make it happen.

Suddenly, she leaped. Flapping her wings furiously, she managed enough lift to land in Makayla’s lap. We all laughed.

A moment later, she fluttered to the floor, disappearing behind Makayla’s chair. Makayla searched around one side of the chair while Java emerged from the other. With determination, she waddled across the floor and headed toward the staircase.

Sizing up the height, she flapped her wings and reached the first step. “I think she’s going upstairs,” I said. Makayla smiled. We all laughed. “I bet she just wants a higher view of things.”

Flap. Up to the second step. Flap. Up to the third. Then the fourth.

She knew exactly where she was going. “I don’t even think she knows where my room is,” Makayla said. “She’s got a bird brain,” I replied.

We all watched curiously as Java climbed to the fifth and top step. Then she turned, looked at us, and promptly waddled down the hallway toward Makayla’s room. No way. Is she heading back to her cage? She had only been out of the room a handful of times. 

As she waddled out of sight, I quietly got up and crept up the stairs, peeking around the corner just in time to see her walking into Makayla’s room. Now, there were plenty of obstacles to navigate. Makayla is a sixteen-year-old, after all. But Java moved steadily through the maze.

Her cage sat back in the room beneath a window. As I watched from the doorway, she made her way directly to it. Again, she looked back at me and then looked up at the open cage. One more flap of her wings put her up on the seed guard. Then one final effort carried her through the open cage door.

She shook her tail feathers proudly and moved around contentedly. Then finding her favorite perch, she turned around, cocking her head to look at me. It was as if she were saying, “Would you mind closing the door?”

Smiling, I did and secured the latch. Bird brain, huh? This bird knows exactly where home is. She’s an introvert. She lives in an introverted house. She’s grown accustomed to her surroundings. She knows what she likes. She knows where she wants to be. And when she’s brought down into the living room, amidst the cheers and roaring crowd celebrating Messi’s latest hat trick, she knew what she must do.

We were all surprised and thoroughly amused when I told them what Java had done. Perhaps we’ve finally found the right bird for our house. Only time will tell.

Java cooed softly the rest of the evening, suggesting she was perfectly satisfied with her decision. Are you as clever as Java?  Where has God made home for you?