In August, we bring a set of new full-time writers to the blog. Today, please welcome Liana Hirner (’24), who will be writing for us on the 12th of each month. Liana graduated from Calvin in 2024 with a bachelor’s in writing. She’s currently living in her hometown of Aurora, Illinois, working at a local library as she figures out her next steps. Liana’s simple passions include reading, writing long winded stories, dark chocolate, and making espresso.

According to my mom, we need to get curtains for our living room windows. Our old windows had curtains, but after we replaced our windows, we had to get rid of our old curtains, which created an unforeseen problem. We’ve had an uptick in birds running into our windows.

It doesn’t happen everyday. Sometimes, it will be weeks, months, before a loud thump makes me jump from where I’m sitting on the couch or eating lunch in the kitchen.

I’m sure my house isn’t the only place that has tricked birds, making them think they can swoop into this new environment with ease, only to meet unforgiving glass.

When I first noticed it happening, it would make me laugh, a startled sound as I watched the confused bird fly away. My parents and I would laugh and say, “How can they not tell?”

A year or so ago, Mom and I heard the familiar thump but instead of the bird returning to their proper course, this one dropped down. We both went to the window. Down in our backyard, lying next to our bushes, was a bird on their back, legs twitching. The sight wasn’t funny, and it didn’t make me scoff and call the bird an idiot for not recognizing a window.

I walked away from the window while the bird took their final breaths. I didn’t want to watch them die.

Earlier this summer, the same thing happened, with Mom and I once again being the only witnesses. When I heard the thump, I waited for the bird to fly away. I like to imagine that they’d fly away muttering to themselves, perhaps saying, “Well, that came out of nowhere.”

But like the other one, this bird went down. Mom and I went to the living room windows but didn’t see it. Then Mom went over to the kitchen window, telling me to come over. From there, we could see the bird, standing up by one of the bushes.

Their left wing was sticking awkwardly out, and they flapped their wings over and over again, probably hoping that one of those flaps would send their wing back into place. But the wing stayed where it was, poking out at an angle that had to be uncomfortable. I wonder how much pain they were in.

I asked Mom if there was something we should do, though I didn’t want to do anything. The idea of helping a bird made me nervous. I’m embarrassed to say how relieved I was when Mom told me there was nothing we could do.

Luckily, the bird wasn’t alone. Two other birds flew to their side. I wish I knew what the three of them were doing, what they were thinking in those moments. Maybe the two other birds were asking their friend why they weren’t joining them in the sky. Perhaps they were strangers, and the two birds came down after they noticed a lonely bird hopping around a cluster of bushes with a broken wing.

No matter the reason, there was something heartwarming about the fact that the bird wasn’t alone, even if the others couldn’t do anything to help them.

A little bit later, Mom went to check on the birds through the window. The injured bird was still there, but the others had flown away. So much for sticking by their friend.

We didn’t see the bird fly away, but Mom later noticed that the bird wasn’t by our bushes anymore, so all I could do was hope that either their wing had magically healed or that they became well enough to fly.

Since that day, I’ve found myself slipping back into the habit of joking or making a dry comment like “oh, here we go,” whenever I heard that telltale thud.

But then I’ll go to the window, hoping to not see a still creature on the grass.

2 Comments

  1. Abbie Ham

    Congratulations on your graduation, Liana, and on joining the post calvin! Big things ahead for you and your writing, I’m sure.

    Reply
    • Liana Hirner

      Thank you so much, Abbie! I really appreciate your kind words!

      Reply

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