Creative Bloom | Volume 3: Stories from Artists

Introducing Creative Bloom - our new Hopegrown series where art, nature, and soulful storytelling come together. From magical fiction to poetic reflections, each post is a gentle invitation to let your creativity bloom!

By the Window

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Comes and unexpected and urgent noise.

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Curiosity binds me in excitement as I go searching for the sound until finally, I locate the source coming from the bedroom. It is a quiet summer afternoon, the countryside feeling hot and lazy with the only other noisy disturbance coming from the chirping of birds and bursts of joyous children’s laughter. So, it is of wonderous surprise when I enter the bedroom only to be greeted by the most unexpected visitor. Resting outside the window rests the brightest and tiniest Golden Finch I have ever seen. Amusement lifts my spirit, curiosity filling with joy. Carefully, I quietly walk over to greet my newest little guest when suddenly, the tiny little bird begins tapping at the window.  

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”, The bird peaks its beak at the window, letting out purposeful little chirps.

I lean closer to the window to get a better look at my little guest and surprisingly the Golden Finch doesn’t move, rather it gazes up at me with an inquisitive stare of its own, seemingly just as perplexed as I.

“Hello.” I whisper gently, kneeling closer to the window, and the little Golden Finch chirps back in response, followed by,

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Aligning my face with the little bird outside the glass, I study in awe over the bird’s brilliance, mesmerized by its fair and tranquil beauty. Its yellow feathers look so bright and soft, like they were laced from golden silk. I have never seen such a bird, nor witnessed such peculiar bird behavior. Living in the Northern countryside, you witness a great variety of birds. However, in all my years living here, I have never seen a Golden Finch as bright as this one before, nor act as oddly.

I watch the bird’s strange performance of chirping and pecking at the glass for a few moments longer before I bid a friendly adieu and carrying on about the rest of my day. However, a few moments later, while cleaning up the living room, lost in a menagerie of children’s toys, I hear a familiar noise.

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Coming over from the bay window of the living room there is my little friend, The Golden Finch. The little golden bird flutters its wings excitedly as I take notice of him, tapping its beak against the glass like an impatient toddler.

“Tap, Tap, Tap.” The little Golden Finish raps earnestly, puffing out its feathery chest.

I contemplate silently, it’s not possible that this little bird followed me from the bedroom and then to the living room. Or did it?

Walking over to the window, I greet my little friend once again with adoration, yet this time, when it tilts its tiny head up at me unexpectedly, I suddenly can’t help this feeling that the bird might be trying to tell me something. Why else would the bird follow me from the bedroom to the living room? However, I push away my theory and settle on the most logical explanation that the bird is most likely being territorial over a nearby nest and sees its reflection in the window as another bird and potential threat.

Attesting to the experience being nothing more than a coincidence, I bid farewell to my little friend again and go about my business once more. Yet, I cannot shake the feeling of being watched as the tiny little golden bird begins to chirp again, pecking and looking at me through the glass, almost as if it is waiting on me for something.

I try to ignore the little bird and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. However, I cannot surrender this feeling I have of being watched. It’s enough to send a shiver up my spine, not out of fear but by some unseen pull. Following my intuition, I look over towards the kitchen window, and there on the ledge sits my little golden bird. He flutters his wings excitedly as I walk over to him, peaking and chirping at the window.

“What is it little bird?” I ask, bringing my face close to the little birds.

He puffs out his chest and lets out a louder chirp, and now I feel embarrassed over the fact that I have officially become the crazy bird lady, talking to birds through the window.

However, the little golden bird stares back at me, jerking his head left to right. We look intently at each other, both seemingly just as interested and confused with the situation. I don’t have the heart to leave, so I watch the little bird chirping and peaking at the window for I don’t know how long. Until suddenly, the tiny little golden bird lets out a high-pitched chirp and flies away.

Admittedly, I am disappointed that the little bird left, feeling as though there was a lost connection with many answers still left unfulfilled. The little golden bird’s sudden appearance and the way I felt it follow me from window to window remaining a mystery. Sitting alone by the window, I try to grasp the meaning from this experience. Finally, I choose to decide it was more than just a vivacious and territorial little bird, believing that what I witnessed was some spiritual outreach, but for what purpose, I still could not understand.  

Later that night as I lay quietly in bed, the luster of sleep slowly ebbing away at my consciousness, I hear a comforting and familiar sound,

 “Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Alarmed awake, I jump out of bed and dash to the window, happy to see what welcomes me under the light of the moon but my tiny little golden friend.

“Tap, Tap, Tap.” The little golden bird chirps happily as I stride over to the window.

“Why hello again my little friend.” I whisper, taking in awe at how the little bird’s yellow feathers seem to glow in a halo of incandescent, reflecting the stars of the night sky.

Gazing at each other in an awe-inspiring sort of way I feel myself bubble in warmth from within just as the aura hovering around the little bird begins to glow.

“Thank you” I whisper softly, and the little bird chirps back in response.

I place my palm flat against the window, knowing that this will be the closest I will ever get to holding my little friend, and as the cold sting of the glass warms against my skin, I feel this growing sense of peace. The little golden bird tilts its head in understanding before tapping at the window a few more times before its glowing image fades away into the nothings of the night. With my heart hammering in my chest, I feel both grief and gratitude. Gracious for the blessing I have received but also mourning the loss of a dear friend.

“Goodbye little bird.” I whisper against the window, with nothing but the howling of the wind to call back to me.  

One week later, I am tending to the garden when I come across something small, white, and obscurely shaped in the soil. Curious, I brush away all the grit and dirt, only to gasp in surprise when I see that it is the skull of a tiny bird.  I take a moment to assess the skull in my gloved hand, looking at its miniature detail, dispensed in disbelief. I reminisce back to my little golden bird. With its soft and vibrant yellow feathers, its tenacious spirit and persistence. I also remember the magic, how the little golden bird faded away into the night. Without hesitation, I pluck a marigold flower off a nearby steam and place it gently next down to the bird skull, both resting peacefully on a rock beneath the bedroom window.

I feel that familiar warmth spread through my chest again, and without knowing, knock against the rock,

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

“Thank you, my little golden friend.”

Rest in peace.