Bicycles and Birdseed

Bicycles and Birdseed

Noel Laflin

6-11-19

My neighbor Brian rode up on his bicycle just a bit ago in order to collect a couple of large bags of wild bird seed I had laying around. I got it a few months back as it was on some kind of super-duper sale one Saturday at our neighborhood Ace. The only reason I bought the seed was to help Brian out with the two bird feeders he maintains down at his end of the block. It’s payback as Brian keeps the feeders full while I reap the benefits of taking pictures of the birds that fly in to feast. Brian has been my neighbor for nearly thirty years now, and he is a fine friend. If, for example, a tree falls across your driveway some windy night, and you are not even home, well, it’s the likes of a neighbor like him who will just show up with a chainsaw and clear your way in before you even get home. He’s that kind of guy.

We got to kibitzing, as we do, and our light banter turned to religion. Nothing serious, mind you, as my church appearances are limited to weddings and funerals nowadays, and Brian is a Jack Mormon – the finest kind of Latter Day Saint in my book. He mentioned that missionaries still show up at his door in hopes of returning him to the fold. 

As joking wound down, and as there were still two heavy bags of bird seed with which to contend, and as Brian had ridden over on his bike, I removed the old sheet keeping the dust off of mine, checked the air in the tires, and hoisted one of the bags on my handlebars.

So there we were - the heat of the day nearly spent and a cooling breeze blowing through the neighborhood - two old guys on bikes transporting birdseed up the street in order to feed a hungry flock.

Had we been fifty years younger, shaved, hair in place, washed, dressed in white shirts bearing skinny black ties, and carrying religious tracks instead of birdseed, we might have passed as missionaries on our way, once again, to visit a lost sheep named Brian.