The Day the Birds Cried

When was the last time you took a risk?

The last time I took a real risk was just recently—on Wednesday, 17th April, right around midday. I remember it so clearly because it started with something unusual: an intense, almost frantic chorus of bird calls. It wasn’t the usual chirping. It was sharp, panicked—like a cry for help. I stopped what I was doing and listened closely. Something was wrong.

I looked out the window but couldn’t see anything obvious. Still, the noise didn’t stop. It felt urgent. So I grabbed a stick and stepped outside, following the sound to a small fruit tree on our property. There’s a bird’s nest up there—tiny, fragile, with newly hatched chicks I’d seen just days earlier.

As I approached and brushed the leaves with my stick, something moved. Then I saw it: a snake’s head slowly emerging from the foliage.

For a split second, I froze. It wasn’t just fear—it was that sharp uncertainty, that flash of instinct when your brain races through a thousand possibilities. It was on the tree. What if it jumped? What if it vanished before I could do anything?

Then, an idea hit me like lightning. I ran back into the house, grabbed a matchbox, a few sheets of paper, and a knife to cut some dry banana leaves. Back at the tree, I lit the paper and leaves beneath it—carefully, just enough to create smoke—and started striking the nearby mango tree with the stick to create noise.

Moments later, the snake slithered out from the opposite side of the tree, escaping the heat and the noise. It was massive—over two meters long, thick-bodied, and intimidating. At the time, I didn’t know it was a harmless rat snake. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. It still looked like a threat. A predator. And if it had to leap to where I was? I wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The heartbreaking part? It had already eaten all the baby birds.

The mother bird was perched nearby, crying—it almost sounded human, like grief. A few other birds flew in, surrounding her, as if they were comforting her and gently guiding her away. I stood there, strangely moved—by the loss, by the rawness of it all, and by the way the birds responded.

It was dangerous. I acted purely on instinct. But I don’t regret it. Even though I couldn’t save the babies, I may have saved the mother—and I learned something about bravery, instinct, and how deeply animals can feel.

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