She was a gray headed Junco according to my Birds of Colorado handbook. Joe and I arrived home late last evening after a day spent giving and talking about Reiki. She must have known somehow that our door was the right one for her that day.
As I stepped onto our little landing in front of our door, Joe said “Watch out!” Then he knelt down and pointed out a bird no bigger than my fist huddled right next to my unsuspecting foot. I could have crushed her if I’d stepped a little differently.
“She needs Reiki,” he said and immediately went round to the side of the landing to put his hands out towards her. It was apparent that the bird was injured as she did not move, even as I set down my books and moved in cautiously to attend to her.
It was the early dark of evening just before the sky forgets the sun and says hello to the moon. It was quite cold for April and there was the ever present wind blowing through. We both beamed Reiki at this delicate creature, the only sign of life the slow vibration of her breath making her tail move slightly. No changes occurred visibly in her, yet the drawing of energy from both our pairs of hands was quite strong.
After a few moments I suggested that I would stay if Joe wanted to go in and start the fire in the woodstove. Living at the little cabin has taught us how to take care of the things that are important, sharing the duties necessary daily to keep us well and warm, whether it be carrying in our supplies, gathering wood, starting a fire, or making food. The simple tasks of living have taken on a sacred silence with us, each of us doing what needs to be done to take care of the other.
In a little while I ran in to grab a blanket to keep myself warm while sitting on the porch with little Junco. So peaceful it was to be there with just her and the night, watching the sky give way to stars and being in a place I don’t often visit, the outdoors at night when it is cold and dark. But this cold and dark was not unpleasant in the least. Junco let me touch her head and back and wings ever so softly with one finger as I gave her Reiki, and it felt as though I was touching a cloud; almost as if there was nothing there. The realization hit that she probably only weighed a few ounces and yet her life and mine were intimately connected in those moments.
When Joe peeked outside to check, I asked if we could put a few logs around her like a fort to keep the wind from hitting her. She seemed to be in shock and we thought perhaps she had hit the window as birds sometimes do. We formed a little V with the logs to break the wind and a few moments later she moved her head from side to side as if to see what surrounded her, then straight back to tucking in her chin and fluffing out her feathers to keep herself warm.
Almost at the same moment Joe and I thought of placing a towel on her for warmth. We didn’t want to bring her inside in case she came to and panicked inside the house. I fetched a small towel to lightly cover her back. I left her with the distance symbol for continued healing.
Just before bed I checked on Junco, making sure the porch light was on so that a predator wouldn’t come near. She remained still under the blanket and both Joe and I gave her some more Reiki at the door.
Next morning as I awoke and looked out the window it had snowed! And I ran to check on Junco. In the place where she had been was an impression of her body in the snow with little tracks leading from her spot across one of the logs then disappearing altogether! That is the incredible thing about snow. You can clearly see what has gone before. Her story told itself. She had gotten up, walked across the log, then flew! There were no other tracks on the porch so we knew nothing had harmed her.
I thanked Junco for allowing us to help her with Reiki, and Reiki for showing us the way.