My beloved sparrows, that have provided me with lots of sweet music each day, may soon be gone...
It's only a matter of time now before their isolated nest that they've built for themselves in a hole in the outer cinder block wall gets broken apart by men with chisels and pickaxes.
With the end of winter, the gradual demolition of the outer cinder block walls of every building throughout the prison is now taking place. It was a project that was begun last year by a large group of outside contractors. Winter brought an end to the project, temporarily. But now they're back chopping away at the outer walls, and then replacing every old block with a new one.
It's a laborious effort, with construction workers chopping away at the blocks by hand. Looking from my window, I can see about a dozen men with hardhats working away under a hot sun. They're on the final stretch of the building next door. So, perhaps within a few weeks, they'll be starting on my building next. I shudder to think what will happen to the nest where my sparrow friends have been living since before I moved here some several years ago.
As I have shared in previous journal entries, almost every morning without fail, and no matter what the weather, a flock of sparrows would gather along my window's ledge and grace me and the empty courtyard with their songs. What beauty! I have always thought them to be a special gift from God, as they would never perch on any window ledge but mine.
But, alas, just around the corner from my cell I can hear the continuous beating of men and their tools. Boom, boom. Chop, chop. Each strike of their implements is bringing them closer to the nest. I could feel the vibrations of their strikes because each blow causes my walls to vibrate.
Of no surprise, the birds have been in a restless tizzy for weeks. Survivalists by nature, they know what's coming, but seem to be waiting until the last minute to evacuate and try to find a new place to call home. Maybe they have newborns who are too tiny to fly or fend for themselves? I don't know. But the impending destruction of their nest might be a sign for me to move on, too.
D.B.
With the end of winter, the gradual demolition of the outer cinder block walls of every building throughout the prison is now taking place. It was a project that was begun last year by a large group of outside contractors. Winter brought an end to the project, temporarily. But now they're back chopping away at the outer walls, and then replacing every old block with a new one.
It's a laborious effort, with construction workers chopping away at the blocks by hand. Looking from my window, I can see about a dozen men with hardhats working away under a hot sun. They're on the final stretch of the building next door. So, perhaps within a few weeks, they'll be starting on my building next. I shudder to think what will happen to the nest where my sparrow friends have been living since before I moved here some several years ago.
As I have shared in previous journal entries, almost every morning without fail, and no matter what the weather, a flock of sparrows would gather along my window's ledge and grace me and the empty courtyard with their songs. What beauty! I have always thought them to be a special gift from God, as they would never perch on any window ledge but mine.
But, alas, just around the corner from my cell I can hear the continuous beating of men and their tools. Boom, boom. Chop, chop. Each strike of their implements is bringing them closer to the nest. I could feel the vibrations of their strikes because each blow causes my walls to vibrate.
Of no surprise, the birds have been in a restless tizzy for weeks. Survivalists by nature, they know what's coming, but seem to be waiting until the last minute to evacuate and try to find a new place to call home. Maybe they have newborns who are too tiny to fly or fend for themselves? I don't know. But the impending destruction of their nest might be a sign for me to move on, too.
D.B.
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