This weekend I visited a castle and there was a falconer. I was deeply impressed by the birds which I saw there. There have been huge eagles and also little tiny owls. I fell in love with George, the smallest one of all.
I looked at his little wings and these mini eyes. He was so beautiful. Then I looked down the big walls of the castle down to the vale. The contrast seemed so vast to me.
I started to ask myself one question:
Do birds have fear of heights?
I don’t think so… but what does little George think when he starts to go up in the sky? Is he aware of the heights he is going? Is he aware of the long distance which separates him from the ground? I admire this little creature for his courage.
But is this only courage? He relies on his capability to fly, he does have faith in his wings which do forward him to the place he wants to go. He does not brood over things he has to do, he just takes the chance.
If there is life after death, I want to be reborn as a bird. I sometimes wish I could be like George. A little bit more brave, a little bit more convinced about my talents. A little bit more free to go whereever I want to go.