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Fly, Robin...Fly
By:
Mike Marinaro
© Mike Marinaro 1997
"This is the best birthday I ever had. I always wanted a BB gun of my very own, I can't wait to get outside and try it out." I grabbed the new BB gun and ran out the door as quick as I could. Mom and Dad looked as if they were a little nervous about such a present, but all the other boys in my seventh grade class had BB Guns. Besides, Dad had said he would teach me how to use it safely.
It was a great day for hiking through the woods near our house, and with my new BB gun I felt like a big man. I imagined that I was on an African safari, sneaking through the jungle. Pop...went the gun, ping...I heard the BB bounce off the side of a tree. Taking careful aim I looked down the barrel and lined up an apple in the sights. Squeezing the trigger slowly, I took my best shot. The apple splattered as the BB found its mark. "I got you."
I found some old bottles and cans lying around in the woods and I lined them up on top of a log. "These will be good for target practice." It was fun shooting at the cans and watching them fly off the log as I hit them. The bottles were even better, because they would shatter and break into a thousand pieces. After a while, the excitement started to wear off. "This is much too easy; I need to have a moving target to shoot at."
Then I saw a bird fly by and land in the branches of a big tree right in front of me. It was a lovely Robin with a bright orange chest. The bird was only about 20 feet away, and he kept jumping up and down from branch to branch. I took aim and squeezed off a shot. Ping...missed by just a few inches; I could see the leaves next to the Robin fly off the branch as the BB whizzed by. Taking a deep breath I lined up the sights, aiming right at the bright orange breast. Plunk...the BB hit its target dead center; the Robin fell out of the tree. "Great shot, I got him." I ran over towards were the bird had fallen to claim my trophy. When I reached the spot I was surprised to see the bird was still alive. There in the tall grass that was stained red with the Robin's blood, lay the poor little bird. He was writhing in pain and making gurgling noises in his throat. I could not bear to look at him; it was so sad. I had done this to him...a poor innocent bird. He was just flying around enjoying the brisk fall day. He was singing in the branches of his favorite tree, when all of a sudden some fresh kid with a BB gun begins taking pot shots at him. I was shaking all over, and started to cry. "I am so sorry, Mister Robin. I really did not mean to shoot you. Please forgive me." I threw my BB gun on the ground and took my jacket off to wrap around the injured bird.
"Don't worry buddy; I will bring you home to my Mom; she is a nurse. Mom will be able to fix you up in a jiffy." Leaving that terrible gun behind, I cradled the shivering bird in my arms and ran as fast as I could all the way home. "Mommy, Mommy"...I yelled as I burst through the kitchen door. "Mom, you've got to help me...PLEASE."
I think Mom thought that I had hurt myself, because she dropped the dish she was washing and it crashed on the floor. "What's the matter Mike, are you OK?" At that Moment, I was so ashamed of myself. I was afraid to tell my Mom what had happened. I was scared to say that I had shot the bird. I knew that I was going to get into a heap of trouble.
"Yeah Mom, I'm OK; it's this poor little Robin that needs help. Can you fix him up and make him fly again? You're a great nurse...I know you can do it." I was hoping that she would not ask me what had happened to the bird. Maybe I could just tell her that I found it lying on the ground, it could have fallen out of a tree. Perhaps it was attacked by a cat or something, who knows? I was having a struggle inside of my head. I knew I should tell the truth, even if that would mean getting punished.
Mom took the Robin and cleaned his wound up. She placed it in a shoe box lined with tissue. I was lucky; she didn't ask me how the bird had been injured. "Whew", I let out a big sigh of relief. Maybe I wasn't going to get into trouble after all. Just then my Dad came in the kitchen. "Hi Dad, how's it going?" I thought I could escape before he saw the bird, so I started to ease my way out the side door.
"Just a minute Mike, Why don't you get your BB gun and we can go into the woods and practice."
As soon as Dad said that, I froze in my footsteps. I knew that I would have to tell him about the bird for sure now. My BB gun was still in the woods where I had dropped it. Besides, if I didn't tell him then Mom probably would. I'm sure she knows that the bird was shot. Both Mom and Dad have always told me that it was better to tell the truth, no matter what.
I gathered up my courage and tried my best not to cry. "Mom, Dad...I have something to tell you. I did a very bad thing this morning. When I was in the woods with my BB gun, I got tired of shooting at cans and bottles. I decided to shoot at a moving target. I shot the bird. I'm sorry...I didn't mean to do it, the poor little Robin."
As soon as I got those words out, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. I ran out of the kitchen and upstairs to my room. I felt so bad for that poor Robin, why did I do such a mean thing? It took a whole week of my Mom taking care of that bird. Cleaning him up, and feeding him aspirin mixed with water through an eye dropper. I even went out and got some worms for him to eat. Finally the time came to let the bird go. I was so excited...he looked as if he was going to be OK.
Mom and Dad and I took the Robin back to the woods. Opening up the shoe box I gently reached in and picked up the bird. "I'm so sorry Mr. Robin...I really didn't mean to hurt you. I'm glad you are better now." Holding my breath I watched and waited. "Fly Robin, fly." Finally the bird leaped out of my hands and flew away. I was so happy that the bird was OK. As we turned to walk back home, I saw my BB gun lying on the ground. I picked it up with tears in my eyes. "I promise that I will never shoot this gun again at anything except bottles and cans."
My Mom said, "Mike, I think that you have learned a very important lesson. Dad and I have talked it over, and we are not going to punish you for shooting that bird. You told us the truth, and we know that you are sorry for doing what you did. I'm sure that this will never happen again."
I will never forget the look on that poor little Robin's face when I first picked him up out of the grass; a look of pain and hurt. But more then that, it was a look of disbelief. He could not understand why I had done that to him. I hope and I pray that I never have to see that look again. I now realize that all of God's creatures are precious and to hurt any of them is wrong.
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