On Poetry and Culture Shock

I have the feeling that something's connecting a certain Poet and me.

Last night I had to chase a blackbird out of my living-room. The stupid thing wouldn't leave the room: chased towards a door it would perch on top of furniture. This went on for about half an hour, until I could let a piece of cloth fall on it and I left it outside in the garden.

This morning I could hear an extremely loud chirping. Not a song. Eek-eek. It was very obvious that it was a baby blackbird saying it was hungry: that was why last night's bird wouldn't go. She couldn't leave her baby behind. It took a long search to find the wee one hidden behind a pile of books. Two thirds grown, all the adult feathers on the wings but not yet on the body. It was very easy to wrap it on the same cloth and throw it out on the quietest corner in the garden. A very black blackbird (a male, therefore) immediately flew to the center of the garden and sang very fast and very loud. In a matter of seconds, at least three birds had taken the baby with them, helping it into a bush so that it could hide. I didn't know that territorial animals could be so cooperative.

Classical haiku material.

Catorce madres:
Mirlas al rescate
del pollito caído.

Fourteen mothers:
blackbirds come to the rescue
of the fallen chick.