This morning as I waited at the bus stop, I took notice to a black bird hopping around on one foot. His other foot was injured– crushed, maybe– and unusable.

The bird scavanged for bits of food, popping his head up to look around and squawk every few seconds, as birds tend to do. He found a small pile of sunflower seeds that had spilled onto the sidewalk. I watched him as he picked through the shells searching for one with the seed still inside, and as he repeatedly tried to crack the seed open. He opened it. That made me happy. Good for you, little bird.

He moved on with his search, not bothering to be frightened by the people standing around. At one point he was not one foot away from where I was standing. He didn’t seem to care one bit. He was a busy little bird. He had no time for fear.

That bird was fearless.

It made me wonder: Was the bird fearless because of some post-traumatic growth that happened with his injury? You know that old saying, “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Maybe so, maybe not. Maybe I’ve just got that Psychology Today article still going through my mind.

You know, I have a feeling 75 percent of all the things birds injest are inedible. I mean, the bird stood pecking at the black-top of the parking lot for quite some time, finding I-don’t-know-what to swallow. Not food. Definitely not food.

Which brings up something else I’ve always wondered about: How good are birds’ eyesight? How in the world can they see, and thus pick up in their beaks, a miniscule piece of food? How can they see a moldy piece of bread left out in the backyard from way up in the sky as they’re flying by?

Here’s another one: How is it possible that they can find a worm just by poking their beak through the grass? Can they hear the worm moving around underground? Is that it?

I named him Phillip.

You know, I’ve said before that if I could chose to be any animal I wanted, I’d be a wild horse. I’d be a wild horse, and run free through the wilderness. And, now I think I might just as well chose to be a bird, just so I could hop around like they do. (Have you ever seen the way a bird hops? Ha ha.) It wouldn’t be so much about the flying, although that would be nice. No, I’d be happy just hopping around, singing in the trees, and taking care of the eggs in my nest.

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