She Sang Like a Canary

 I was stretching at the 91st Street entrance to the park, when I see a herd of birds feasting on a hero roll. I always think of this as family style dining, like Olive Garden for the winged set.

In this black and white vista of robins and wrens, there’s a splash of yellow that, when moving closer I realize, is a canary who clearly flew from her home window.

To say she looked happy with her cronies is an understatement, as they ate together like old friends.

So fascinated by the whole thing, I say to a man standing nearby, “Do you see that? It’s a canary.”

He doesn’t even look at me when he says, “Yeah, that bird won’t make it till noon.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?”

“He’s a house bird, probably never been out of its cage. Either some hawk will grab it or some other animal.”

My calves and I were greatly upset by this grisly assessment.

“What can we do then, to help?”

“You got a net? Cause if not, bye bye birdie,” he snapped, before running off.

Good riddance you cynical asshole, but his words rang in my good ear like a Nazi air raid.

12 Step teaches you to pause before going nuts, so I sat on a bench, watching this beautiful feathered creature eat and preen like a pale yellow queen.

Nature, they say, takes care of its own so I thought, maybe her peers will help her along. Or maybe she’ll meet a guy, a bluejay perhaps, who, like a blue knight, will shield her from any danger. Yes, my imagination took flight, along with she and her friends I watched fly into the sky headed somewhere.

Sagaponack perhaps? The Vineyard? Or maybe they’ll just show her the sights around here.

It was a perfect day to stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge, so I saw her, a beauty on one of its cables, gazing out into the harbor, forever free.  



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Beauty, grace, humor, nature, New York City, words, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to She Sang Like a Canary

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, here is my prediction. It will happily join a flock of yellow finch. They look like black winged canaries. So this winter while we are freezing, she/he will be warm and singing down south somewhere.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. We had a beautiful blue parakeet come to our feeder a few summers ago. It would not survive the winter so I tried some tactics to catch it. All failed. Nature will have to take of those who stray.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I hope the man was wrong.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. When we had a cockatiel growing up, we always left his cage door open. He never got out unless he got frightened and flapped around and made his way out. Then he’d walk around a bit but if we put his cage next to him, he’d climb right back in. I always worried the door of the house would be open when he flew out and he’d fly right out into nature. Maybe that’s what happened here. I’m sure a canary would have a grand time in New York City. It’s the Big Apple after all, right? 😉


  5. A recently read a missing poster for a local house bird that flew the coop and I’m happy to report that he/she made it back home after a few days on the town. Hopefully, Ms. Canary will have the same ending.


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