Two major events unfolded this week and I can’t decide which one to write about, so I’ll tackle them both and try to tie them together.
1. A baby bird fell out of its nest.
2. A friend of mine, a Navy veteran, detained an intruder at gunpoint.
When my daughter found the baby bird, she was in tears. She ran to me because I would know what to do (I didn’t but let’s not confuse the issue).
My buddy’s wife heard the intruder and woke him up because he would know what to do (he did).
I picked up the baby bird. In my hands it felt so insignificant and weak. I felt big and powerful.
My buddy picked up his pistol. He not only felt big and powerful…he was. When he told me the story, though, I felt pretty insignificant and weak.
I had no clue what to do with the bird.
He knew exactly what to do with the intruder.
I placed it in a box on the counter.
He placed the intruder on all fours on his patio.
After doing some research, I put the baby bird back where it belonged…in its nest.
After calling 911, the police put the intruder where he belonged…in the coop.
In the end, the bird was safe (the mother returned later).
And so was my buddy.
Therefore, one can only conclude that baby birds and guns are inexorably linked.
Next time I’ll discuss the parallels between ballet and laser guided bombs.
“Baby birds don’t kill people; people kill people”… or should I say peeple?
“Hold it right there! I have a bird in the hand, and I’m not afraid to use it!”