The Bird Whisperer

Today a small green bird flew through the open door of our hospice staff meeting and crashed into a sliding glass door to the outside. A gasp went up from the doctor, nurses, social workers and others who were discussing the deaths and dyings of our patients. Our volunteer coordinator Pearl quickly got up, gently lifted the dead bird and walked outside as several staff members made nervous comments. Was this a sign? Was it a reminder that death is all devouring and unexpected? Such reminders this group did not need.

Working in the hospice family, we see living beings declining, dying and passing away on a daily basis. Sometimes it seems to us as if everyone must be dying of cancer or emphysema or heart disorders. So when a non-human living being came flying into our weekly meeting in a death glide, no one was surprised, but everyone was a bit shocked and saddened. In fact, only moments earlier we had been mourning the loss of a hospice nurse from the other side of our Island. When death strikes so close to home, the stark black and white nature of life and death becomes even more traumatic.

After a minute or so, I left the meeting with the idea to do a quiet honoring of the passing of that small green bird. As a hospice chaplain, I have come to value life in all of its varied forms. I’ve been privileged to witness and support the passing of human beings of all cultures, races, religions and ages. And I find myself honoring departing spirits of non-humans as well. It seems natural and appropriate to me.

Outside I saw Pearl bent down, moving her hand over the dead bird and apparently praying. Ah, someone else who sees the value in memorializing a young bird’s departure, I thought. As she slowly got up I walked over to stand with her. ‘The bird’s dead.’ I stated. ‘I don’t think so,’ she whispered. As we watched, the bird moved slightly. In another minute, a small beak opened weakly. ‘Pearl, you brought it back to life!’ I marveled. ‘No, I just gave it ‘healing touch,’ she explained. We took the bird to a shaded, grassy and protected area to let it rest and hopefully heal enough to fly away.

As we returned to the meeting, I announced, ‘Pearl healed the bird; it’s alive.’ The hospice group clapped as one nurse deemed Pearl a ‘bird whisperer.’ Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A human colleague had died; an animal relation lived on.