While I was waiting for some work stuff to finish on a server, I ran out to Starbucks and got a coffee. I had set up the server to email me on my cell phone when it was done. I headed back to the office at a leisurely pace since I hadn’t received any email on my cell. As I entered the lobby, I noticed a small sparrow hopping along the marble floor.

There’s no clear exit or opening the the lobby. I wondered how this bird could have gotten in. I looked at one set of glass doors and noticed that one of the doors was propped open by no apparent force. Maybe the wind had blown it open and the hinges were stuck … I don’t know.

I attempted to herd the bird towards the malfunctioning, but open, door of freedom. The bird lazily avoided me and made some amount of progress towards the outside. But then, sensing danger, suddenly jumped straight up and flew into a lobby flower bed.

I sipped my coffee not saying anything. No one was around. I had a server and a stressful day waiting for me upstairs. I could leave the bird, likely to die, and continue my day. Or I could finish my coffee, rinse out my starbucks cup and attempt to trap the bird in the cup. The frappuccino cup looked like it would work as a safe and functional bird transport.

The bird walked along a grate behind the lobby flower bed, probably taking comfort in the bits of mulch that were scattered about. I sipped my coffee with greater purpose. The bird continued walking along the grate heading towards the door. I sipped my coffee with anticipation and tried to herd it out the door again. But it got scared by my advances and fluttered back away from the door near an open spot in the grate.

Then the bird promptly dropped down into the metalic underworkings of the lobby flower bed. Now I had a challenge on my hands. Looking at the grate pieces, I saw that they could be removed. However, I realized if there was any kind of fox hole or a/c duct in this service trough, the bird would likely be inaccessible and would be doomed to starve to death.

I finished up my coffee and rinsed the cup out in the Men’s bathroom. I couldn’t possibly sit in front of a Unix terminal now. I returned to the flower bed and removed all of the plastic grates from on top of the service trough. The bird was now wide eyed looking up at me from within this very awkward manmade place. I herded it into a corner of this trough and tried scooping it up into the Starbucks cup. It was captured but as I brought it up out of the trough, it jumped out and back into the dark corners of safety.

With thoughts of religion, life, sentience I drove too far into the moment. I realized that here I am, a human being, trying to help this bird and it is not allowing me to help. I can’t possibly explain to the bird that I am not trying to eat it. It understands nothing more than being prey and surviving the situation. Ironically, I felt like I was the only way to survive the situation. I continued to try, adopting a “Daddy Knows Best” posture.

I cornered the sparrow again. I made a few slow misses with my cup and then I had the sparrow captured again! The bird was incredibly light. The cup felt no heavier with the bird in it. Such a contrast to my 155 lbs self.

Leaning over the various flowers and dirt I worked the lid on slowly and carefully while the bird flapped helplessly in the plastic container. I had a bird in my cup as I marched outside. I passed a building worker as I went outside and I showed him my prize. He was smiling as I explained where the bird came from. Without further delay I released the bird into an ivy patch on the ground and the sparrow flew off around the corner of the building without effort. I was happy to see it unharmed.

So the sparrow is free and probably hunting worms at this moment. And I can’t leave this event to rest. Because you could, if you like, read a lot into it. You could read it one of two ways:

1) There is a God with a Starbucks cup trying to save us. There is a divine being that tries to save us although we are a million times too stupid to understand his mechanics for doing so. We flee in horror at his attempts to scoop us up. We can’t prove to each other that he exists. How can this bird possibly talk with me directly? How could this bird possibly explain plastics, polymers, arms and human intent to its bird friends? This bird probably doesn’t even have any “bird friends”. We are completely and totally different organisms and trying to relate us is completely impossible.

2) There isn’t a God and what happened simply happened. Karma, sin, redemption could be a natual consequence of other human opinions. If I stomped the bird to death, I’d probably feel bad. If someone saw me stomp the bird to death, I’d probably get a bad name. Is that it?

If there isn’t a God, why save the bird? Why do anything good? I look at it like this. I don’t need to kill the bird. The bird is a wild animal. It belongs outside. It does not want to be inside (although it might not know this). I feel a need to resolve this conflict as a person. People don’t want conflict. People want resolution from tension. So I save the bird. Harmony (in this aspect) is restored and I am satisfied.

If there is a God (or other deity), I hope that by some technicality I satisfy it/him/her by my gesture. At least, by all means of reason and proof, there is a bird still alive.