Clemency

Every once in a while, something comes along that changes one’s life.

Two summers ago, this happened to me.

I had just come home from writing final exams. I walked around the yard, looking at the blossoming flower gardens while making plans for the summer.

My brother Justin was home as well, and he was the one who found it. It was a baby bird, fallen out of its nest.

There is nothing uncommon about that; baby birds fall out of their nests all the time. We thought about leaving it, letting nature and survival of the fittest takes its course. But, we brought the bird inside.

My first emotion was panic. How would we feed this little guy? What do birds eat anyway? How would we keep him warm? After some time of thinking through the situation, Justin went to the garden to look for worms. We were desperate, wanting to feed the hungry baby. We were almost ready to chew those worms up ourselves if he was willing to eat them.

We cut the worms into tiny pieces. Justin took a pair of long tweezers, stabbed a piece of worm and brought it close to the baby’s beak. To my surprise and awe, he opened his mouth and made a tiny sound. We put the worm far enough back on his tongue so he would have no choice but to swallow. We got through the feeding this way, and I can’t say how much he enjoyed those tweezers, but that bird was pretty hungry.

Once the feeding issue was out of the way, the other problem was keeping the little guy warm. Baby birds have trouble keeping their body temperatures at a constant, which is why so many die if left unattended. I had an idea, and it wasn’t the brightest thing anyone’s ever come up with but it worked. I filled a hot water bottle, and placed it in a box. I put some rags on top of it so the heat wouldn’t burn him. The bird settled right down into the box, but his back was still exposed. I solved that problem by building a wall of cotton balls, and then over the top, almost like an igloo.

The day dragged by. I had no idea how often baby birds got fed, and even if I did, I didn’t have a clue what kind of bird this was, seeing as he was almost completely naked, save for a tiny strip of light black fuzz down his back. I decided that I would feed him every 20 minutes or so. It was a slow day, combined with the cutting and digging of worms.

My biggest challenge, however, came that night. It is well known that babies, especially tiny ones, do not sleep through the night, and birds are no exception. I was sad that this little guy probably wouldn’t make it through the night. Before I went to bed, I asked God to do whatever He thought best for this particular bird. I desperately wanted him to live, but not if he was going to suffer. After handing the whole situation over to my Creator, I felt light and hopeful.

Deep down inside I felt that the baby bird would live. I could already sense he was special, he just seemed to be a fighter, but I didn’t want to name him, in case he died during the night. I couldn’t bring myself to a term of endearment before the test of the night was passed.

It was a long, gruelling night, one I wouldn’t care to repeat yet would be happy to do a thousand more times, just for the experience of love and dedication that grows with time and hard work. I had to get up every 20 minutes to feed the bird. Three times I had to cut up more of the worms we had stored in a container, and change the hot water bottle.

In the morning, the little one was still alive. I felt that God had provided a great mercy in letting him live through the night, so I named him Clemency, which means “to show or provide mercy.” I soon took to calling him Clem.

The second day was much like the first. The feedings continued every 20 minutes, same with changing the hot water bottle, rags and cotton to keep Clem warm and happy. The second night was much harder, as I was already tired from the first, but with God’s help, both Clem and I got through it.

The first few days of Clem’s life were uncertain. I kept thinking I would find him dead. But, Clem grew stronger and stronger. He was changing daily. Every morning I would notice a new feather or a new brightness about him.

One of my biggest thrills was when he started growing tiny feathers on the tips of his wings. They got bigger and bigger, and then he started growing more feathers and getting his soft baby down. He would occasionally stretch his wings. I was astounded at the length and power of something so small.

Eventually Clem was covered in feathers and fuzz and we could tell he was a sparrow. At that point, I phoned all the vets in the phone book to ask for tips on caring for him. Each person I talked to was shocked he had lived at all. Sparrows are very hard to keep in captivity and no one could give me any good advice. That’s when I knew for sure that Clem was special.

Clem graduated from his little box to a big box and eventually to a cage. Feedings went from every 20 minutes (which, I found out, is how often a mother bird feeds her baby) to every half-hour to every hour to not at all. Clem learned to feed himself – a relief to my sleep and a joy to my heart. But I felt less and less needed, like a mother feels I guess when her child goes off for her first day of school.

I felt I had to prepare Clem to return to nature. I knew it would be hard to let him go and that I would always be wondering how he was doing, or if he was all right. But, it had to be done. We spent time in flying lessons, which weren’t that successful, but I think he got the general idea.

I was trying to teach him to fly, dig for worms, all the stuff wild birds do. Whenever he learned well or did something that made me happy, I rewarded him with a lick of honey coated over a popsicle stick. One time he got the honey all over his feathers and my mom and I had to give him a bath. He was not happy about that!

We often took him outside. At first it was only in his cage, but then we let him out for a while. Sometimes he would follow another sparrow into a tree. The first time, we were sure he was going away for good. But he came back. When we called his name and made a special clucking noise, he came flying back and perched on our hands. He was so special in that way, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

Clem’s sweet song would wake me every morning and sing me to sleep every night. Sometimes I would get up during the night just to watch him sleep. He was so gentle, so humble and meek.

Eventually, Clem died, as all things do. He never returned to nature. Whether he longed to be back with his own kind, I’ll never know, but I like to think he was happy with us. We gave him ample opportunity to leave, but each time we called, he returned. He was a joy in my life.

Clem showed and taught me so many things about life and God’s glory that I never understood before. I learned how much we are loved by God who created us and died for us. Clem was only a sparrow. There are millions of sparrows in the world, but I knew him, cared for him, taught him, watched him grow and develop. I had a bond with him and a great love for him because of this. Jesus talks about this in Matthew 10:29–31: “For only a penny you can buy two sparrows, yet not one sparrow falls to the ground without your Father’s consent. As for you, even the hairs of your head have all been counted, so do not be afraid; you are worth much more than many sparrows!”

I also learned there is nothing too major or too minor for God to do. We sometimes think God is not pleased with our trivial requests, or that He doesn’t care. Nothing is farther from the truth! God loves to hear our prayers. Whether the answer is yes, no, or maybe, He is faithful and will always answer according to His will for our lives.

I learned about the shortness of life. I never knew how long Clem would live, so I treasured every day with him. How many of us take the time to thank and praise God for blessing us with life?

And, I learned what a real miracle is. Many products are advertised as miracle something or other: miracle spray, miracle cream, miracle stain remover, miracle whip. But we miss the true miracles in life because they are too small for our standards. They are happening around us all the time. We just have to open our eyes to see them.

Jayna Nicholson lives in Hepburn, Sask., where she just finished Grade 11. She presented a longer version of “Clemency” as a sermon in the Hepburn MB Church youth service January 18.