Even though I already had sympathetic feeling towards these animals (having seen them and watched their interactions with one another regularly during my daily walks around Stow Lake), there was something so endearing, so real to me about this particular one.
As I thought about writing the word 'real' above, I felt badly about the choice, like there was another word, or something else that I was really trying to say but could not find a better way to say it.
I almost wanted to write human.
What I was trying to convey was that the errant feather, figuring so prominently, acts for me as a kind of invitation to enter the animal's world. Where there is visible imperfection, I also see a door that I can exit my own experiences to a degree that I can better perceive others'.
Where the unfinished business of living is most obvious, the presumptions I have about living things have the best chance of becoming obsolete, at least temporarily.
Is my humanity is sticking out?
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