Birds of a Feather...

It’s alarming, I know…

His name is “Baldi” – for obvious reasons.

Were it not for the red feathers, we’d have almost no idea what kind of bird this is. Growing up in Maine where bright red cardinals abound, I became familiar with their song, territorial nature, their lifetime commitment to their breeding habits and most pointedly, their stately appearance.

Typically, the cardinals that visit our home look like this guy:

Full breasted and scarlet in color, they boast the signature Mohawk-like plumage on their heads, giving them the appearance of glamour with a rebel’s edge. Also, they don’t tend to be very friendly birds. I once watched in awe as a cardinal tried to attack his own reflection in our dining room window for a good twenty minutes.

Anyway, back to Baldi.

We make a big deal out of our birds around here. We have three bird feeders just outside our dining room windows, branches cut specifically for their perching pleasure, and a bird bath with fresh water. We often gaze at their busy little lives while we go about our own. Baldi began to visit our birdie paradise about a year ago. His head was spotted with feathers, like an old man with a terrible comb-over. I sneered at his unfortunate looks and hoped he’d go away – I didn’t want him to contaminate the feeders if he has some kind of disease.

I sneered at his unfortunate looks and hoped he’d go away...

An animal lover to a fault, as he came more frequently, I started a little love affair with him. I noticed he isn’t territorial like the other male cardinals and he’s busy all the time: foraging, collecting, peering and never seeming ill in any way. Were it not for the nearly featherless head, I’d think him a completely healthy bird.

One day, while at the kitchen sink I noticed a little wren with a slight look to him: very thin and timid of the other birds. He was sitting on the rail to our patio and looking like a bit of an outcast. My heart swelled with empathy for him as I watched. He jumped down to the bird bath and looked at the water, hesitant. When other birds flew off suddenly, he braced himself, but didn’t move; head down and looking up. He flinched once again when another bird landed on the bath with him, it was Baldi.

...another bird landed on the bath with him, it was Baldi.

The little bird looked at the now completely bald, unattractive veteran. Baldi leaned into the little wren, head low and cocked to the side. Before I knew what was happening, the little bird leaned in closer to Baldi and took a seed, already shelled, out of Baldi’s mouth and eagerly ate. An involuntary gasp escaped my mouth while I stood before the kitchen sink, water still running mindlessly down the drain. I snapped the faucet shut and looked back, just in time to see Baldi take off, toward the large evergreen which hides his home. The wren stayed in place for a bit longer, but eventually flew away as well.

I was dumb struck. Rarely do birds feed one another – particularly the proud cardinal. Is it possible that this sickly bird has developed a desire to care for other unfortunate birds? The standards of female cardinals are high – there is doubt he is courting a girly friend. I wonder who he nests with. Does he have a nest at all?

This all happened about four weeks ago.

Ever since, I’ve been trying to get his picture; just to have it as remembrance.

He is a cardinal without feathers.

With the loss of his feathers, he also abandoned his natural territorial tendencies.

Now he accepts all.

He has been forced to give up the procreation demands of Mother Nature.

He has no family to gather and forage for, so instead he does so for all others.

Perhaps I give this bird too much credit.

Is the mind of a bird capable of empathy, reason or unconditional love?

Maybe not, but for us much more complicated upright homosapiens,

it is a lesson worth noting.