Living Choices
Choices. We make them everyday:
- Go to school or sleep in
- Brush your teeth or don’t
- Work on your project or play on the computer
- Be on time for the carpool or dilly dally
- Do yoga or have a beer
And while the consequences of our choices range in intensity, from missing a day of school to getting a cavity or failing math, our decisions impact our lives and the lives of others in more ways than we know.
“In every moment you make high vibrational choices,
you are supporting our collective consciousness.”
I came across this truth in something I read in passing a few months ago, and it struck me as being so profound, I needed to write it down and display the message to keep reminding me.
I strive to make the right choices when faced with several options, but sometimes (more times than I’d like to acknowledge), I realize in retrospect that I wish I’d made different choices, and I regret it. Despite wanting to live my life with “No Regrets,” the consequences of my decisions often cause me pain or sadness.
Sparking this pondering about choices is a recent decision I made that turned out so wrong. I’ve felt so mad at myself and wished I had followed my heart instead of listened to advice of an outside party.
So a couple days ago while walking my dog I noticed something moving on the ground in the dirt by a bush. It caught my eye and on a closer look, I saw it was a tiny baby bird! Oh my God! I couldn’t believe it. What do I do? Then, as I was kneeling next to it, I saw a second baby bird, moving around on the ground next to it! Another one! I thought about what to do. There was no nest around, and it seemed these birds had fallen from the tree.
I decided I’d take the babies home and take care of them. They were stretching out their wings and opening their beaks, so they seemed strong, but not quite ready to fly. I carefully placed them on the “mutt mitt” I had in my purse, and carried them gingerly home, tugging on Ginger the whole way not to do her business as her bag was otherwise employed for now! 
I got them home and my daughter and I found a shoebox, filled it with some grass and natural materials, and I cut down a small branch from our ficus tree that a hummingbird had made a nest in last Spring, but which was now empty. They were a little tight, but they fit comfortably in the nest! These precious little creatures were so tiny and vulnerable. I gave them a few drops of water using a q-tip, which they took, and I even felt their claws holding onto my hand when I had put them into the nest.
They seemed happy, and were resting nicely in the nest as I figured out what to do and how to take care of them. 
I thought they might be hummingbirds, b/c of the green color on their back, but I couldn’t be sure. I called a vet, who referred me to another vet, the Conejo Valley Vet Hospital. The receptionist who answered was very helpful and advised me the best thing to do would be to put them back where I found them b/c the mother would care for them, even on the ground. “Don’t worry about your smell on them; the mother won’t care at all.”
Wanting to do the best thing for the birds, and thinking of their worried mama, I did what she told me and placed them back near where I’d discovered them, but closer to a tree where they wouldn’t be so out in the open. I prayed they’d be okay, and my daughter and I waited around to see if the mother would find them. She didn’t seem to fly right down to them, but there were lots of birds around, so we figured she’d locate them and they’d be taken care of.
You know how this ends, right? And I hate this part. When I went back to check on them the next morning, they were out of the nest and at first I didn’t see them, but then I noticed 2 small lumps swarming with black ants. How tragic. Pointless. Sad.
And to think I could have probably given them a chance, had I kept them and dropper fed them. Why oh why didn’t I follow my motherly instinct to care for these baby birds in need instead of following the advice of a third party over the phone?
I meant well. But I’m sorry little birdies. The next time I’m faced with a choice like this, I’ll know better what to do. Then, my learning may help another to live.
NaturaLawes 