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Cardinal Companion (14) : In the dismal whites and blues and greys of winter, the bright red splash of a cardinal is a welcome difference. It’s not uncommon to see birds out and about, and it’s easy to spot these especially after a fresh snow. Wild birds typically mind their own business and don’t really care about you–except, this one does. An unusually curious cardinal finds you the subject of interest in its day, and oddly enough–it feels familiar to you. You can’t explain it, but the moment your eyes land on it, it feels like coming face to face with someone dear to you. The cardinal isn’t afraid of you and feels comfortable enough to approach you, or maybe even land on you. Perhaps it’s even brought you some small gift. The more time you spend with it, the more you pick up on its unique habits, which seem to have an uncanny resemblance to someone you’ve lost. Sometimes the cardinal even smells of them, or has similar traits. The cardinal doesn’t ever stay for long but when it leaves there is an undeniable feeling that someone very important to you has paid you a visit.
Ophilia absently tossed one of her sunflower seeds onto the patchy snow, watching as a bright red cardinal fluttered down from his perch to snap up the seed before returning to its bare bush to eat his treat. This was the same bird she had been seeing for the last week. Someone might ask how she knew it was the same bird and she could only shrug, she just knew. None of the other wild birds paid any attention to her except when she scattered seeds or breadcrumbs, and even then she needed to be a ‘safe’ distance away. This little bird was different. He hadn’t been skittish at first, he had hopped right up to the toes of her heels and chirped until she tossed him a few of her berries from her lunch that day.
Every day since she would take her lunch break and meander over to this particular bench, the little bird would fly to the closest perch he felt was comfortable and just wait there. He wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t chatter or scold unless she completely ignored him. At which point he would land by her feet and chirp until she acknowledged his presence. It was a little ritual they both had. One she had started to look forward to. It was a familiar action. A comfortable silence and honestly one that she felt was familiar, something she kept strictly to herself. A few more seeds were placed out and she smiled when the little red menace swooped in and started to enjoy himself.
He sometimes reminded her of an old classmate of hers, one who had passed away quite a few years ago. One who enjoyed his food just a little too much but was one of the best people to just sit with. He wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t argue or condemn. He just enjoyed your presence. During her years at school she had gotten into the habit of sitting with him at lunch, just sitting there not doing or saying anything in particular. Occasionally she would pass him the little fruits or seeds or other healthy treats she had been given that day for lunch. He would share his candy with her. Or his chips. If he didn’t have any ‘unhealthy’ snacks he would make sure to save some the next day. He was sweet that way. He had figured out that she wasn’t allowed those kinds of things when she was younger. It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t good for her, it wasn’t what she should eat. And yet he shared. It had made her day every time he shared. When her classmate stopped coming to class she was shattered, she kept it all inside but she had missed him desperately.
Ophilia had never forgotten him, so when this little chubby bird started to pester her for her nuts or fruit the dark haired woman couldn’t help but think he was familiar. She tossed out the last of her seeds and murmured a quiet, ‘Until tomorrow George,’ to the bird. The bird chirped, cocked his head, and flew off. It hurt to watch him fly away. Almost as if her friend George, her classmate that is, was leaving her once again. Her soft laugh was full of derision for herself only for it to shift to a more shocked and sad chuckle when the bird returned with a small candy. The little Hershey’s Kiss was dropped on the bench before the bird took off once again. Ophilia picked up the chocolate and after a moment she pocketed it. She wasn’t going to eat it, she wasn’t stupid, but it was a sweet, if strange, gesture from the creature that had reminded her of a dear old friend.
“I’ll see you next week George,” She called out to the bird before heading back herself. It was Friday, normally she would be looking forward to the weekend, but strangely enough she was already looking forward to lunch on Monday. Maybe some strawberries would be a good treat for them both?
