"The Parking lot birds have returned again,” Baldwin complained aloud to no one in particular. That was the name he gave to the sparrows that worked the parking lot for food at the small convenience store just down the road from his house.
They were oblivious to danger in their search for something to eat as they kept out of the path of hurried human feet and rolling vehicle tires, yet he looked down his cat nose at them for they ate the human’s discarded snacks.
Baldwin once heard his scholarly cousin Gypsy call the sparrows “sacred birds.” She told him of an ancient Greek text that speaks of a higher presence who watches over sparrows. He laughed at the thought of those common birds having a position of such importance.
Soon the sparrows found out about the birdfeeder of Baldwin’s neighbor, and they visited it daily. He thought how pleasant it would be to capture a holy bird and perhaps give it a little nibble. Sheepishly, Baldwin took a quick look around him, just in case someone had read his unkind, instinctive thoughts.
Usually Baldwin accepted the sparrows with a mask of tolerance, for he thought he was being very charitable in allowing such lowly birds to eat in his presence, but not today! He was much too self-centered to give credence to his cousin's words, so he stealthily made his way toward a lone sparrow that was diligently picking through the fallen sunflower seeds.
Baldwin licked his chops and sprang toward the seemingly unsuspecting bird. Suddenly, he found himself sprawled out on the ground with a throbbing nose! He cried out in alarm as he shook his head to stop his pain, “What did I hit?” He picked himself up and humbly made his way to the shelter of the tall grass.
He looked around to see who or what had been between him and that small tasty sparrow, but to his amazement, the parking lot bird was still in the same place acting like nothing had happened. “Could it be,” thought Baldwin, “that Gypsy was right after all?”
