Birds: Let Them Fly
by Zoe Brunk
Illustration by Kaya Perelman, Contributor
When at school, I often find myself missing my dog. This is a sentiment I’m sure many can relate to, which is probably why I know a good number of students at Oberlin who have dogs. I imagine waking up, my dog under my covers, taking him out early in the morning when there is still a low mist over North Quad. He could run the length of the field while I drink my tea. What a healthy way to start the day, in the fresh air as soon as I wake up, my feet in the grass. But then, we would have to find our way back inside, up three floors to my room, the hallways sterile and the lights bright, and this is where he would have to spend his day. More likely, even, I would wake up late; he would whine to be let out, but I wouldn’t have time, and he would have to wait, or worse, would pee all over the quad. I would get back from class and see him sad, and I, too, would be sad about the amount of laundry I would have to do.
So maybe a dog is not the ideal pet for me. Maybe a hamster? Or something else small and low maintenance. But really, what I want from a dog is a companion, and I feel that a hamster, or some other pet, has much less loyalty, and maybe couldn’t even tell the difference between their owner and any other person.
But a bird? A little yellow canary on my windowsill in an ornate, metal cage. I imagine it hopping around our quad, perching on the Tank porch. We would do everything together. Next to me at breakfast, he would be eating the seeds out of my granola. I could make it a tiny teacup at the pottery coop, so we could match while we drank our tea. On special occasions, he could come outside with me, in my voice class he could harmonize along with us. Or to the Apollo, especially if they stream something bird-related (ex: Rio, Sesame Street, Happy Feet, Storks, Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, though I wouldn’t want him getting any ideas…). He would love the Arb but in that case, I would have to fashion some kind of leash, so that he wouldn’t get mixed up with the wrong bird crowd.
It’s easy to romanticize the bird-owner life. I mean, who doesn’t want a pet bird? These days, everyone's got them. I myself am part of a legacy of bird-owners. My grandmother had many a parakeet in her day, though each one she let out of its cage within a matter of months. She felt bad for constraining their flight. And this leads me to question the ramifications and ethics of bird-owning.
Addressing the obvious, a pet bird in Woodlands would never breathe outside air, aside from the potential field trips my bird might be permitted. The flow from the air filter, the light breeze from a mechanical fan at my bedside, the woosh of the air conditioner, this is all they will ever know. My bird would be perched on the edge of freedom, sitting by the window, but caged both by his birdcage and by Woodlands itself. This seems the opposite of the life birds were meant to lead.
This brings me to the second and probably most pressing issue of bird-owning: a caged bird’s inability to fly. Birds were given a gift that the rest of the animal kingdom and human population could only dream of: flight. Who are we to cage them, to take them away from their flights through green trees and blue skies, their bouts of hunting for worms from miles up in the sky? And for what purpose? Surely the human-bird bond can’t run that deep. Dogs are man’s best friend; yet birds don’t have any such slogan that preaches their loyalty.
Dogs find their purpose in humans, birds don’t share this sentiment. I suggest, instead of bird-ownership, perhaps supporting the birds in your community through a different means. A hearty, seed-filled bird feeder, or maybe a tempting hummingbird feeder that glows red in the sun. Perhaps a bird bath, gurgling and filled with preening birds, dancing and cooling off their feathers. In this way, one could create a lasting aviary-human bond without taking away from the bird’s sparkle.
Thus, I implore any potential bird-owners, any person thinking of a canary on their window, a parrot on their shoulder, an owl delivering a letter, even a flamingo in the backyard: I say wait. Consider the ramifications for the bird, for the human, and maybe consider some other dorm pet. A dorm fish? Dorm lizard? And after all, there is always dorm baby.
