parable of the trapped bird

(source)

One sunny morning, a little bird made its way inside the house and hovered over the four corners until it got into my room. Why it was lured to fly inside the house I only have the slightest perception. Was it lost in finding its nest? Did it find itself trapped behind walls while trying to track the sweet whiff of the blooms in my neighbor’s garden? 

I tried to catch the poor bird and toss it outside but it cannot seem to stop flying around. It would rest for a while but would flap again towards the tiny canopy on the other side of the ceiling. I tried to lead the bird to the open door where it got through but it would not follow the clues. I was unsure if it was figuring its own way out of this enclosure to be back to the open space or if it actually reveled in the different surrounds of walls and furniture that is entirely unlike the trees. Was the little bird tired of the trees where every other bird was and wanted to look at a different view? Or was it only finding solace, perhaps a new spot to build its nest?

I let the little creature fly until it will tire with its flight and will allow itself to be led outside. It finally rested on the pane where the air con used to sit but is now covered with aluminum screen. By the time I was able to grab a chair where I could stand to reach the pane, the tiny bird again flew, taking wing around the corners of the room.

Why it refused my hand when I could have been its one chance to freedom I could only begin to show concern. Its ticket to the open space and the trees was upon me. Was it afraid that I will not lead it to the blooms in my neighbor’s garden? Was that tweet its scream of "leave me alone!" and that I just let this tiny being’s flight be on its own free course?  

I opened the door wide and the windows to allow it many gates to get out of these confines. Little bird, the garden and the blooms are outside, and this sure is not the best place to build your nest and raise your young. The trees are waiting for you outside. Can’t you hear the chirp of the other birds?  They are calling out for you.

The little bird did not notice the bright rays of the sun coming through the open windows as it hooked its claws on one dark corner of the ceiling, the flapping of its wings becoming slow and weary.

I took a hammer and pulled out the screen covering the air con slot. The little bird, few ounces of strength left, flew few little flaps and rested on the pane. In a while, it finally flew outside, landing on the branch of the mango tree where its tweets chorused with the rest of the birds and the humming of the morning breeze. The faint sweet smell of the camias on my neighbor's backyard wafted all the way up.

I took out a few nails and hammered the screen cover back.