A Bird At The Window

 

I went into my garage today and noticed a bird that had somehow managed to get in while the car entrance was open but now couldn’t get out. He was spending all his energy at the window, seeing the outdoors but being stopped from getting to it by a barrier he could not see. There he was, trapped in a hot-and-getting-hotter garage, perceiving freedom but unable to achieve it. I told him I was there to help, and I hit the button and soon the garage door was wide open. But the bird was still looking out the window, convinced that this was his doorway to salvation. Eventually I felt I had to approach him and he, not recognizing me as the friend I was, flew away from me towards the now open garage door. Whatever he may think of me, I did him a solid.

It is easy for us as humans to look upon the behavior of animals and laugh at their inability to see the predicaments they sometimes find themselves in. The truth is, though, that without much effort I can use this story as a metaphor for the traps we humans find ourselves and in which we seem unable to extricate ourselves from. I will use one as a short example, knowing full well that humans trapped in such predicaments are no more willing to look upon me as a well-meaning friend than the bird did.

The window is the Democratic Party. The bird is the voter stuck in a dark situation, the temperature getting warmer and warmer. The voter/bird can see where he wants to get, and the window is the most obvious means to getting there. The voter/bird has been exhausting itself for a long time trying to get out of the situation in which he finds himself, but the window, though promising much, will never allow the voter/bird to get to where he wants to go. A window is not meant for that, liberation through such means is impossible. Were the bird capable of thinking on a deeper level, he would clearly see that all it has done so far has been utterly fruitless. But look! There’s the bright blue sky, so promising, so inviting. There is a comfortable-looking tree with branches that offer both safety from those below and a place to sit and enjoy the cooling breeze that rustles its leaves. The little bird/voter believes the problem lies within him, that he needs to flap/vote harder.

Then a human enters, making the situation even more frightening. The bird/voter fears the worst, believing the human is a predator/Republican. Deeply conditioned to fear the unknown, the bird/voter beats its wings more frantically, though the tone of the human’s voice seems friendly enough. The human must be trying, he thinks, to lure him into danger.

Suddenly, there is a loud noise on the other side from where the human stands. Surely another threat, thinks the bird/voter. He does not even dare look towards the opening garage door, certain that it is approaching doom. Would it do so, it would see the bright blue sky, unimpeded by any glass barrier.

Gentle voter, whether you recognize it or not, I am your friend. I wish to release you from the predicament you now face. But if I am ever going to do so, I must try to convince you that you will never escape through the glass window. If ever that window had once been capable of opening and allowing you to escape your prison, it has long ago rusted shut.

I have opened the door for you, offered you an escape. And yet you beat your wings wildly, convinced I am your enemy. You mistake me for a Republican because I suggest another route and you cannot imagine anything other than the window.

What do I do then, gentle voter/bird? Allow you to pound your head against the window until your little lifeless body drops to the concrete? That would be cruel, would it not? Besides, for all my idealism and love for other living beings, I really don’t want to deal with having to pick up a dead bird and stuff it in the garbage.

Is it wrong of me that I approach you, even though you perceive me as an enemy? Is it so bad that I frighten you enough that you fly from your delusion of freedom to escape what you perceive to be an imminent danger? Our goals are the same, little birdy, please forgive me if I grab a broom and direct you towards where freedom awaits. For my freedom and your freedom are inextricably intertwined.

(An imperfect metaphor, but hopefully one worthy of your time)