Making a Difference. Bird Bully Gets His in the Beak.

Sometime in 2011 world population is going to hit 7 billion people. 

I can't even relate to that. I mean, what does 7 billion look like? Well, according to National Geographic, not as much as you might think. The big brains at that organization say all 7 billion of us, standing shoulder to shoulder, could fit inside Los Angeles:

Nserrano

(That's me, second from the left there. See? The one waving, with a bit of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia dribbling off of her chin.)

How in the world do you stand out in a crowd like that? How do you make a difference? If I'm jumping up and down screaming and waving, you're still not going to notice me. Clearly, trying desperately to be heard is not going to do it. You'd have to not just make noise, but make unique noise. Something that could be heard above the crowd, or outside the crowd, or instead of the crowd. You'd have to be seriously unusual.

So, maybe that's not it.

When I was a kid we lived in Maryland in front of a gorgeous, vine-filled, tree-packed forest. The result was that our yard was like an aviary. We were regularly visited by everything from oriels and cardinals, to bluejays, chickadees, and your basic robin redbreast. We also had a great abundance of crows and sparrows.

Once, after a terrific rainstorm that brought the entire earthworm population up into our yard for a pool-party, my mom stood in our kitchen and watched enough birds descend upon our yard to send Alfred Hitchcock into paroxysms of delight. Our little plot contained a veritable smorgasbord for our avian friends, and they knew it. I'm not sure there was one bird in that forest that didn't come to our place for a little bite of worm-mignon.

Everything was going along munchingly for the birds, when my mom noticed a particularly fat redbreast bopping about the yard. He'd go up to the smaller birds, wait for them to come up with a worm in their beaks, and then peck and harass them until they dropped their lunch. Hunting, bully-style. It was easy pickins for him; every little birdie-dude and dudette was afraid of the big lummox. They'd give up their worm, then beat it out of there. Clearly Mr. Robin FatBreast had found an M.O. that worked, and he plied it with glee.

Then he came upon a bird of a different feather. This new little sparrow-guy was hopping around plucking up worms, happy as can be, when along came evil Sir Red and pecked him on the head. Littlebird jumped in surprise and lost his worm. It was instantly snapped up. But instead of flying away, this sparrow just hopped to another part of the yard and began hunting again. Big Ugly clearly thought he'd found some sport, and probably didn't like that his victim hadn't flown away, so he followed. And the whole scenario played out again: littlebird found a worm, and Big Ugly pecked it away from him. Once more, the sparrow hopped away, and big bird followed.

This happened over and over again as my mom watched. And I've gotta tell you, if it had been me I'd've been out that door yelling at the robin faster than you could say . . . a whole lot of things. But before my mom could move, something interesting happened: Mr. Sparrow apparently had been mulling his situation, and made a decision. When Big Bad Dude came up once more to steal his worm, the little guy turned and stuffed the worm right into his nemesis' beak. It wasn't violent. He didn't shove it. Just kind of stuck it in there. Almost like a gift.

The Redbreast stood stock-still for a few seconds, worm in his mouth and eyes blinking, staring at the sparrow. The sparrow just stared calmly back.

And then the Robin flew away.

So. What's my point? Out of hundreds of birds in my yard, the one that stood out from the crowd was the one who patiently bided his time, thought things through, and did something simple. Maybe even something kind of nice, in the bird world. And his difficulty left. Little dude just turned around and started eating worms again. And this time there were a lot more for him to choose from.

I've gotta think that's how it is for us as human beings on this face-filled planet. Or at least, that's how it should be. Not that we should stuff worms in the mouths of our detractors, or even those who don't seem to see our value. But I think being patient enough to watch and learn would be a good thing. And then when we act, it will be calm, effective, make sense, and take care of our obstacles. And who knows? Maybe that approach will leave us with a lot more options too.

What's more, even if we don't stand out among 7 billion people, I'll bet we'll stand out in our own crowd. Calm thoughtful people with a plan are needed like nothing else in this world, it seems to me.

My new mantra? "Be the Sparrow."