Awhile ago, I had just enough time to get some fast food for lunch before I went to my next appointment. I maneuvered through the drive-through and parked to listen to the radio and eat. While I was eating, I looked in my rear view mirror to catch a big seagull dragging a bag containing the remnants of a McDonald’s meal. The bird proceeded to swallow half a burger in one gulp, expanding his neck to almost twice its width. That would have seemed to be enough to satisfy him. However, he didn’t fly away.
Moments later, several other birds decided to get in on the action. Starlings, blackbirds, and seagulls all hovered around to get at the leftover fries that were scattered about. The wide-necked seagull guarded his booty, lunging at the other birds trying to nab some of the nearby fries. Soon there was such a flurry of feathers and birds hopping and pecking at the fries that the seagull with the swollen neck surrendered his goods. Within seconds, the area was picked clean and the seagull was alone, with an empty bag and napkins strewn nearby.
Days before the seagull event, I drove down a dip in a local road I pass by regularly. A marshy pond with cattails and lilies straddled both sides of the road. On this particular day, I saw a lone green headed Mallard Duck looking displaced wandering the pavement. It crossed the road and circled a lump of something back near the pond. I thought it might be a squirrel or opossum but as I neared the corpse, there was no doubt--a dead female duck. The male duck paced across the road again and then back to the dead female. I slowed to allow the bird to move out of harms way. But it looked up as if he wanted me to stop and help…very eerie. As I drove by, I took one last look in the rear view mirror to see the duck steadfastly staying by the female’s side.
In both incidences, each bird was left alone in the end. But the contrast between the two endings was striking. In the life of the seagull, it demonstrated selfishness and greed. In the life of the mallard, it demonstrated compassion and commitment.
Thanksgiving has now passed us by and we have stuffed ourselves with the lavish foods only a holiday could provide. In a week or two we will probably forget how we lived that day. Was it just a day where we gorged our appetites and plopped down to watch the football game, or serve ourselves better by showing compassion to people?
The pilgrims came to America with hope to live out a new freedom. But with most freedoms there is a cost. The leader of the pilgrims, William Bradford, lost his own wife barely setting foot on the soil of the new land. Instead of returning to Europe in despair, he poured his energy into “husbanding the resources of Plymouth Colony.”[1] Those that came before us stand as an example of how to survive in a savage world. They exemplified this by how they bound themselves together with compassion and commitment.
Are we truly thankful for those that braved the trail before us and also to those closest to us? Do we show compassion and commitment to others, regardless of what we will receive in return? Birds know the difference. So do you want to be like a seagull with a belly full of food and no friends, or like the male Mallard with a show of empathy to his dead mate? Incidentally, the next day I passed by the male duck on the road. He wasn’t alone anymore—he was receiving kindness from a man handing out a bag full of bread crumbs.
[1] William Bradford: Plymouth’s Faithful Pilgrim, 1998.
Days before the seagull event, I drove down a dip in a local road I pass by regularly. A marshy pond with cattails and lilies straddled both sides of the road. On this particular day, I saw a lone green headed Mallard Duck looking displaced wandering the pavement. It crossed the road and circled a lump of something back near the pond. I thought it might be a squirrel or opossum but as I neared the corpse, there was no doubt--a dead female duck. The male duck paced across the road again and then back to the dead female. I slowed to allow the bird to move out of harms way. But it looked up as if he wanted me to stop and help…very eerie. As I drove by, I took one last look in the rear view mirror to see the duck steadfastly staying by the female’s side.
In both incidences, each bird was left alone in the end. But the contrast between the two endings was striking. In the life of the seagull, it demonstrated selfishness and greed. In the life of the mallard, it demonstrated compassion and commitment.
Thanksgiving has now passed us by and we have stuffed ourselves with the lavish foods only a holiday could provide. In a week or two we will probably forget how we lived that day. Was it just a day where we gorged our appetites and plopped down to watch the football game, or serve ourselves better by showing compassion to people?
The pilgrims came to America with hope to live out a new freedom. But with most freedoms there is a cost. The leader of the pilgrims, William Bradford, lost his own wife barely setting foot on the soil of the new land. Instead of returning to Europe in despair, he poured his energy into “husbanding the resources of Plymouth Colony.”[1] Those that came before us stand as an example of how to survive in a savage world. They exemplified this by how they bound themselves together with compassion and commitment.
Are we truly thankful for those that braved the trail before us and also to those closest to us? Do we show compassion and commitment to others, regardless of what we will receive in return? Birds know the difference. So do you want to be like a seagull with a belly full of food and no friends, or like the male Mallard with a show of empathy to his dead mate? Incidentally, the next day I passed by the male duck on the road. He wasn’t alone anymore—he was receiving kindness from a man handing out a bag full of bread crumbs.
[1] William Bradford: Plymouth’s Faithful Pilgrim, 1998.
