This story first appeared online for Written Tales in May 2025 and is about the love of birds that is indirectly passed down from generation to generation. Enjoy!
“Our lovely provider is not looking so good,” Mr. Cardinal commented to Mr. Red-Winged Black Bird as they were perched atop a white vinyl fence that divided home lots.
The lovely provider was an aging, widowed 95 years old woman struggling with each push of her walker from the backyard shed to the bird feeder hanging from a shepherd’s hook.
Other birds aligned with them, waiting for the lady to finish replenishing the feeder.
“I miss landing on her cloth insulated shoulder. She loved us so close to her,” recalled Mr. Cardinal.
“It’s too risky now,” chirped Mr. Red-Winged Black Bird. The two loving birds recalled the days when a dozen birds could land on the woman while she tended to the feeder. Today, the attempt could cause grave harm in her weakened state.
More birds lined the top of the fence and the brick wall that lay adjacent. Forty birds waited with precious patience adoring the woman with a chirping serenade, all realizing time was short with their human companion. The woman completed her serving duties and creaked her body to acknowledge the birds with a subtle wave; she couldn’t lift her arm up for very long.
A few days later, the birds were waiting for the woman in an oak tree across the street when a blaring siren startled them. Usually, the audible nightmare would have these flying creatures flapping for more quiet quarters, but there was something distinct about this alarm.
“Something is wrong, friends. I will check it out,” Mr. Cardinal announced as he made a beeline for the front of the house and perched to the ridge above the garage to spy an emergency vehicle parked on the road. Some of the senior doves and a blue jay joined the red bird.
After an uneasy wait, and with the arrival of the coroner, their worst fears were realized. A sheet over a stretcher being rolled out was their confirmation that they would never see her again. Mr. Cardinal led a cadence of chirps that assembled the birds to honor their human friend that heaven would soon welcome. The neighbors pointed and marveled at the line of birds chirping in unison.
“The bird lady had quite an effect on her feathery friends,” lauded the neighbor across the street.
The birds flew off to their daily adventures and would congregate on the fence near the feeder out of habit. Only this time, the lady would be void of their visit.
The bird feeder was empty. Mr. Cardinal sensed the need for closure wth the lovely provider and formulated a plan with the other neighborhood birds. One morning, they met on the ridge of the provider’s house and noticed family dressed in black, carrying flowers into a minivan.
“Let’s follow the vehicle,” commanded Mr. Cardinal to the other bird species. “Hopefully, they don’t travel so far away, and we can keep up.”
The birds followed the minivan to a cemetery where a service was performed. The surviving family all paid respects around a tombstone memorial for the lovely provider.
Instinctively, Mr. Cardinal led the birds down, and they collectively landed on top of the tombstone.
“Nana always fed the birds that she loved so much,” the granddaughter sniffed.
“Mom, now that we will be living in Nana’s house, can I feed the birds?” the great granddaughter asked her mom with sparkling eyes.
Her mom wiped away loving tears from her eyes, “Of course. It will be a wonderful way of honoring Nana.”
Mr. Cardinal exclaimed to the other birds, “Follow my lead.” Mr. Cardinal flapped up over the tombstone and gently landed on the little girl’s shoulder, followed by the gray doves, black birds, and red-winged black birds. The little girl’s face it up with bliss as her mother looked to the heavens with thanks for the glorious sign.
Moray Writes 