one-way glass

In the pictures I took of Otse, you may notice that the side of one of the buildings looks like glass.

It's actually one-way glass. While I was down there, a bird flew into it. T., the man whose house this is, went outside, picked it up, and brought it into the house. It was a small bird, somewhere between a parakeet and a cockatiel, maybe.

The bird wasn't dead, but it was certainly dazed. How would you feel if you'd flown into a house, even if you only glanced off it, as this bird had? It had probably looked in front of it, and seen sky and trees and open space.

T. said that this happens from time to time. He said that if he picks the bird up, it often lives, but that if he leaves it, it will die. He said he had once found a hornbill that sat on his shoulder for half an hour before it finally gave itself a little shake and flew off.

So, he just sat on the couch with me, stroking this little bird, and talking softly to it. I stroked it along its head with my finger, and it didn't flinch at all. It alternately closed one eye, and then the other. It was bleeding a bit around the mouth, and we weren't sure it was going to make it. Then it shat on T.'s hand, and we took that as a good sign.

T. kept stroking it for a while, and then eventually put it on the window sill. He said it took birds a while to recover their equilibrium well enough to fly. It sat there for a bit, fluffing up its feathers, and eventually flew off into a nearby tree.

A note: you may have noticed I avoid the use of proper names. This is partly a sensitivity to the privacy of the people with whom I interact, and another part of it is not wanting this blog to come up in the search results should a prospective employer google my name. I'm sure you'll understand (especially those of you on the job market), and respect this in any comments you might leave.