I named him 'Lance'

I caught a bird at work the other day.

Walter called me and said 'James, there's a bird down here.'

'What?', I replied.

'A bird flew in the store and now it can't get out and it's stuck somewhere back here now.'

'How long has it been there?'

'Like 10 minutes. You should come down here.'

'Ok'

Sure enough there was a young fluffy bird hanging out above our desk area that isn't normally there. So I grabbed two boxes, one flattened, to deal with the intruder. I covered the bird with one box and it squawked, struggled and pooped a little. Then I slid the flat box underneath. Situation under control.

As I carried the bird out my co-workers looked on and asked 'Is that the bird?'

'Yes', I answered. The door swung back and hit the box. A tiny claw peaked out from underneath.

'Could you please hold the fucking door open?' I was focused.

As I walked for the front door my eyes locked with an older blond woman. Shit. We're going to try to get out of each others way and keep going in the same direction. The bird was going to get loose and claw her eyes out. Wait. She's looking at blueberries, clear path to the door. Go.
I get outside and prepare to let the little bugger go in the parking lot in front of people eating lunch and going to doctors appointments. It would be a little moment to brighten up everyone's afternoon. The headline would read 'Unknown man releases wayward bird in parking lot to ovation'.

Wait. What if the bird can't fly and just falls to the ground? Better go around back to an environment the bird is more accustomed to. When I arrived at the 5x10 patch of mulch with a single tree I took a deep breath. This is it little buddy. We've been through alot, but our time together is over.

I slowly lifted the boxes apart and the bird flew out as soon as he could fit through the crack. I didn't even see what direction the damn thing went. A young couple walk by and I smile at them. Obviously they didn't see the release because they're faces seem to say 'Why are you holding boxes covered in birdshit?'

Back to work.

I struggled, absolutely struggled, to gain something from this. Surely I could learn something from what had just happened. Lately I feel like I've needed direction, some event to break up the rhythm and show me where to go. I was thinking my only option was a long talk with one of the Mormons that are walking around this spring, so when the bird happened I was relieved. I was positive I could spin this experience in real life and apply it to one of the things that keeps me up at night. It could be my mantra. 'Remember the bird. Remember the bird'. I would get a tattoo.

But I was at a loss. The bird was just a bird. If it was a rat that ran into the store it would have run into a trap. If it was a homeless man he would get escorted out. If it was a bear it would probably get shot. Why did the bird have to mean something?

Let me rethink this.