Henry Watch

Tonight I am on Henry watch.  The kids are asleep.  Geoff is working late.  And I am keeping watch on Henry, our little blue parakeet.  

Something happened to Henry this morning.  I wasn’t in the room at the time, which puts me at a disadvantage of having to piece together what happened after the fact from various and opposing witnesses.  Something happened to Henry, though, and it involved Benson.

Kathryn, age nine, and Benson, newly five, were in the girls’ bedroom playing. I said they could let the birds out of the cage as long as they kept the door closed so that our dog Maggie couldn’t get to the birds.  A short time later, a tearful Kathryn came out and said that Henry was hurt.

I asked what happened.  

“Henry kept flying around, and Ben wanted him to sit on his shoulder.  So he threw his pajamas at Henry so he would land. He didn’t mean to hurt him, Mom. But I think he did.”

I went in the room to find an injured parakeet, and a worried little boy. I glanced over at Ben, standing at the foot of the bunks, head down.  I could see that he was trying not to cry.  Then I knelt to take a look at Henry, who was on the floor.

Henry was standing on one leg, with the other leg tucked up high.  His feathers were fluffed up.  Not a good sign.  I gently poked him with my finger, trying to see if he would put the other leg down. He lost his balance, and still didn’t use the other leg.

“Ben, what happened to Henry?” I asked.

“I threw my PJ’s at him to hold him still so I could get him,” he started to cry. “I wanted to pick him up.  But he just kept flyin’.  Is he okay?”

“No. He’s not okay,” I answered.  It was one of those moments when I couldn’t decide whether to lecture one of the kids, or just put my arms around them while they realized their own mistake.

“Will he be okay?” he asked again.

I said I didn’t know.  That it looked like something was wrong with his leg.  I explained that these little birds are so small that there’s not much we can do for them when they’re hurt. 

I picked up Henry.  He slumped in my hand.  His feathers were still fluffed up.  He let me touch his foot, and I could see that the foot and leg were purple.  He kept it curled up against his body, unused.

The kids had all gathered in the room by that point.  All in tears.  As I looked at the injured little bird, I slipped into my impatient lecture mode. I scolded the kids for being too rough. I told them that this was one of God’s little creatures, and that as one of God’s bigger creatures they all had a responsibility to protect what was smaller than them.  I told them that I thought Henry was hurt bad.  I suspected that he had a broken leg.  And there wasn’t anything we could do for him.

Amidst all the tears, Benson spoke up.  “If we ask God to take care of Henry’s leg He can fix whatever’s wrong.”

I agreed with that and said that I suppose God could do whatever God wanted to do.

So, with Henry in my hands, we prayed.  Actually Benson prayed.  He wiped the tears away, and told God that he was sorry he had hurt one of God’s little creatures.  He told God that he hadn’t meant to hurt Henry.  That he just hadn’t been careful.  He asked God to take care of Henry’s hurt leg and help him to feel better. He said again that he was sorry, and asked God to please not let Henry die.  

Ben’s sisters joined him on the “Amen.”  And I carefully set Henry down on the floor of the cage.  We put the blanket over the cage, and left the room. 

We checked on Henry throughout the afternoon.  He stayed on the floor of the cage, fluffed up.  Madge, our little yellow parakeet, also sat on the floor of the cage right next to Henry.  

The kids had a hard time getting to sleep tonight.  Everybody’s worried about Henry.  Including Madge, I think.  Benson said another prayer for Henry at bedtime.  He asked God one more time to please take care of Henry’s hurt leg. And help him not to die.

And I am a mix of emotions tonight.  I’m worried for little Henry.  I am sad to think of him hurting.  I’m disappointed in the kids for not being gentle enough with the birds. I’m also proud of Ben for being honest about what he did, and trying to take responsibility for it.  And I keep remembering back to a particular spring afternoon when I was a kid.

I was in third grade at the time.  We had a parakeet.  I can’t remember its name.  I was playing in the park across the street from our house and some older neighborhood kids were there.  I said that I had a bird in my house.  They didn’t believe me.  So I said I could prove it.  They dared me.  Since none of my older siblings were home at the time, I went in and took the bird from the cage.  I brought it across the street to the park.  I showed them our bird.  

But my satisfaction ended abruptly when a neighbor’s dog ran up barking and jumped on me, knocking me to the ground.  I let go of the little bird.  And before I understood what had happened, the dog had the bird in its mouth and was shaking it.  I got the bird back a few seconds later, dead.  In that one moment, our little bird was dead.

I remember walking back across the street to my house, with the dead bird limp in my hands.  I remember the tears streaming down my cheeks.  I remember one of the older kids calling from behind me, “Hey, sorry ‘bout your bird.”  I remember being afraid that my older brother and sisters would be mad at me for killing our bird, so I just opened the cage and set the dead bird on the floor of the cage. I didn’t tell anyone.  Later, everyone got home and found the dead bird. They didn’t know what had happened. And I don’t know that I ever told anyone what had happened.  

So, tonight I’m on Henry watch.  I keep checking on him.  So far I haven’t see any improvement.  

And I’m thinking about our son.  He did well today.  He made a mistake.  But he stepped up and acknowledged it.  He has carried this responsibility.  He’s cried. He’s sought forgiveness.  And he’s prayed.  For God to take care of this little creature who tonight has a hurt leg.  And for God to please not let Henry die.  

I’m praying for that tonight, too.  For Ben’s sake, as well as for Henry’s.  

As a postscript:  Henry survived that night.  And the next couple of years.  I actually think God did that one as a special favor for Ben.