I love the place in the park where the birds are safe. Life is so hard for a bird.

Even though when they fly in the air they seem to be a part of another dimension, from someplace else, not of this earth, if you ever held one in your hands you know how frail they really are. They are all tiny bones and rapid little heart beat pounding around your fingers in terror.

Our cat can catch a bird a day if we let him out, and he loves to torment his victims before the gruesome kill.

But even though they are so defenseless and tiny, the birds are still the only ones that can really fly. Sometimes you can see them all lined up on the wires at an intersection on a rainy day; they can fly away, while we get stuck in traffic jams and shopping lines.

Plus they work so hard, building nests, finding food, feeding their young, migrating back and forth all the time. They fight the elements and the hawks, pellet guns and toxic waste just to survive.

We don’t do much that’s good for the birds. I’m glad there is a place in the park where they are safe.