Commentary: Fallen Sparrow Uncovers a Philosopher

Providence -- noun; the foreseeing care and guidance of God or nature over the creatures of the earth.

Calling someone a birdbrain has not customarily been a flattering moniker, and before I met Chris Chester, I suppose I would have considered it an insult. Actually, we never met in the literal sense, but reading his book, "Providence of a Sparrow," is to know him, or at least you think you do. Unfolding himself through his "Lessons from a life gone to the birds," Chris' words are intimate and honest, but the fun part that came from discovering him and B (for Bird) was in laughing all the way through their shared daily routines. Of course, with really great laughter inevitably come tears somewhere along the way.

Most of us at one time or another have sadly stared at, or scooped up, a doomed baby bird and looked skyward to see if there was a nest nearby where we could return it home. There are numerous explanations for how or why pink and featherless babies drop to the ground, but since most of us make poor substitutes as avian parents, we are helpless in reversing the predictable outcomes.

When Chris picked up a tiny fallen house sparrow and took on the challenge of helping it live, his own life changed completely. As the thumb sized, helpless creature not only survived, but began to grow, its savior realized birds have individual personalities just as cats, dogs, horses, humans and other creatures do, and he became fascinated:

"At least once a day I catch him looking at his feet as if he's noticed them for the first time, ... and I look at him, a circumstance more remarkable to my here-and-now than a billion galaxies spiraling outward to some unfathomable denouement. Two citizens of a shared reality eyeing one another's improbable future."

Fate brought out characteristics in this man that he was unaware he possessed. He had always thought of himself as a "cat person," only to learn that latent in his being he was also a "bird person" and an eccentric one at that. What the author did not say about himself, but which becomes obvious, is that a mere bird, an English sparrow of all things, uncovered a philosopher.

"Deities and beasts inhabit themselves free from the heartache of coveting a plausible alternative; humans mostly work on their masks. Having finagled our way to the top of the food chain, we find the view from the summit soothing and assume mastery for ourselves of all things seen and unseen. B reminds me gently I'm more or less an idiot."

B, the sparrow, kept his keeper in line with "The Look," which conveyed disgust, impatience and disapproval and demanded a routine in all things -- play time, feeding time, bed time, emotional time, etc. Failing to fulfill, the miscreant servant would get "The Look," and after his human's unexpected absence of a few weeks leaving "B" in someone else's care, forgiveness was months in the making.

The many sides to B ranged from "War Bird" antics to heavy sports play with plastic bottle caps. He sat on Chris's shoulder, typed on the computer, enjoyed the comfort of being closely held, and gave bird kisses to his keeper's face, favoring his nose. But the relationship between man and bird went far beyond easily described pet tricks.

Chester's explanations of his emotional reactions to B are masterpieces of description. For example, shortly after learning to fly, the sparrow disappeared from the room he lived in only to be discovered stuck in a light fixture, which was then unscrewed and lowered by Chris and his fiancee, Rebecca.

"He might as well have been a potentate in an oddly designed sedan chair carried by slaves. ... B remained inscrutable throughout our jubilation but accepted bits of wilting strawberry with the condescension of an atheist taking communion on a dare."

It is a loss to education that this writer will not be studied as a philosopher nor celebrated as a naturalist because there is nothing objectively researched or rationally reasoned in what he found out about life. Ironically, however, I have learned more from the man and that little house sparrow, a species generally disdained by humans, than I ever have from the structures and rules of those academic specialties. It is literature that tells us the stories that make us care and respect that which is not quantifiable. This book is a memoir, but more importantly, it is a love story. And, you won't ever forget it.

FRAN ALEXANDER IS A FAYETTEVILLE RESIDENT WITH A LONGSTANDING INTEREST IN THE ENVIRONMENT AND AN OPINION ON ALMOST ANYTHING ELSE.

Commentary on 06/22/2014

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