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August 1994
Ingrid’s Flight: The Power of Prayer

By Claudia Rose Emerson

 


The weekend was coming to a close and I was taking a comfortable bus home to Manhattan from New Jersey. I had just attended The Rutgers Animal Rights Conference for three days — an experience which had been very uplifting and had filled me with a store of new knowledge and information that would help me help the animals. I leafed through a copy of The Animal'os Agenda magazine and Farm Sanctuary’s newsletter. I knew the animals needed us and I wanted to do my part to end their suffering. But, although I was ready to speak out for the animals I was not quite ready for what would happen next.

Once I reached Port Authority, I called my husband to tell him I was nearly home. He said he had some bad news about my parakeet Ingrid. She had escaped that morning and had flown out of the window. I asked him to check the apartment again thoroughly for her and I grabbed a cab home: the ride seemed to last forever.

As soon as I arrived home, I raced up the stairs to my apartment and hurried to see if my other parakeet Bridget was safe: she was. I went over to the window to call Ingrid, but she was nowhere to be found. I insisted to my husband that we go where there were some trees. I called for her again, but it was already too dark. I felt devastated and very guilty because I had recently built the birds a new cage, but had never taken the few seconds needed to repair a small hole in the corner of it. It was my fault that Ingrid had flown away.

It was a long night. Every few hours I would wake up filled with worry and sadness for Ingrid, and then I would cry myself back to sleep.

My birds were very special to me because of how I had gotten them. A neighbor had posted a sign in the hallway, advertising free parakeets. I was curious and went to look at them. When we approached the birds, they jumped to the back of their cage, their hearts beating rapidly, and their eyes bulging from their little heads. There wasn’t much food or water for them.

I didn’t know much about birds but it was obvious they had been neglected and were frightened of us. I decided then and there to take them and at the least get them away from that environment. The cage didn’t have a bottom so I had to tape a piece of foam core under it in order to carry them to my apartment.

First thing the next day I went to see Nona. Nona had the gift of caring for injured and rescued birds she either found on the streets or others had given her. You couldn’t help but feel cheerful and alive once you stepped into her apartment and heard her birds chirping and singing. I had told Nona about my newly-acquired birds and how the white parakeet seemed to have a nervous twitch which caused her to hit the side of her beak repeatedly against the cage. Nona thought they were probably under stress and that they should get plenty of sleep. I took her advice and the birds slowly calmed down and became familiar with my voice. Then I went to see my artist friend Koho who had taken in an injured baby dove whom someone had left in front of her studio. Assisi could only see from one eye, but he was a happy little bird. Koho said she would keep Ingrid in her prayers.

I had no trouble naming the birds. The white parakeet was named Ingrid after Ingrid Newkirk, founder of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, because I admired her work for the animals. I named the yellow parakeet Bridget, or B.B., after Bridget Bardot, not for her acting but for her animal rights foundation in France. It didn’t take long for me to grow to love and care for these birds. I would whistle "Amazing Grace" before I let them sleep. They fluttered their eyelashes, closed their eyes, and seemed to enjoy my whistling.

After I had had them a couple of months, Ingrid’s nervous twitch vanished. Both of the birds seemed to be less shy, and I decided then to build them a large bird cage. It took all weekend to build it, but Ingrid and Bridget loved their new home. They chirped and played more and seemed to be trusting me even more. I hoped that one day they would trust me enough to rest on my hand. They had come a long way. But now my Ingrid was gone and all I could do was hope for her safety.

The next day I began serving jury duty. It was so hard to concentrate in the courtroom because I was so depressed over Ingrid’s disappearance. It was then that I met Marlene. Madeline had many cats, and she had rescued many of them from the streets. It was Madeline who suggested I post a flyer in the neighborhood; this I did during my lunchbreak, posting flyers near the courthouse and in the Chinatown area close by. A woman stopped to talk to me and asked me if I had whistled for Ingrid. She suggested I call and whistle out of my window for her often, and then wished me much luck. I called Petfinders and also thought of placing an advertisement in the newspaper, but it wouldn’t have come out for another week. When I got home, I whistled "Amazing Grace" from my window and called for Ingrid several times; but all I heard was the sparrows chirping and the doves cooing.

I called my friend Marianne to cancel dinner plans with her and my prayer group since I was too depressed. We would meet weekly at St. Anthony’s Chapel for songs and prayers, and tonight it was Charlie’s treat. I told Marianne I didn’t want to spoil their fun. Marianne suggested we pray for Ingrid over the phone and it was then I realized that I had to let Ingrid go. While I prayed for her to come back, I also prayed for someone to find her, keep her safe, and love her. Marianne had by then talked me into going for dinner. Even my husband joined us for dinner. It was the first time he had participated in any event with my prayer group. I was pleased and we all had a wonderful time. During dinner we prayed for Ingrid’s return and I passed out flyers among the group to post in their neighborhood, because Ingrid could have flown anywhere in the City.

It had now been four days since Ingrid had left. After jury duty I stopped by St. Anthony’s Feast on Sullivan Street, where people were enjoying the rides, games, and good food. I passed out more flyers to a few local neighbors, but most of them told me that my parakeet was long gone. Nevertheless, I went to St. Anthony’s rectory to pray to St. Francis, the patron saint of animals. Instead I was given a little prayer book to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost articles.

I knew then I had to pray that night and this little book felt so good in my hands. When I got home I first whistled "Amazing Grace" out of the window and called out to Ingrid. After this I started to pray with the little book. I thought I’d pray for about thirty minutes or so and then make dinner, but the first half hour turned into an hour and then even longer. I then said a few prayers with little Bridget, who had been very quiet ever since Ingrid had left. I then prayed to my twin cousin Ellen — a beautiful, intelligent, young woman who had been murdered for her car about nine months earlier. I was already a vegetarian; but it was after Ellen’s death that I looked more clearly at my choices and lifestyle and became a vegan. I wanted to practice non-violence in every way I could, and also speak up to end the victimization of animals. I stopped wearing leather, wool, or silk. I asked Ellen to help return Ingrid to her sister Bridget because like her own sister Martha, Bridget was very lonely without her Ingrid. I then prayed to my grandmother whom I remembered had loved her yellow canaries.

It was now about 8.30 pm and the room was growing very dark. I had long forgotten about dinner. I felt much stronger and less depressed about praying. I wasn’t interested in eating — so, even though this would be the third time that day, I called my voice mail to see if I had any messages. Unbelievably, there was one message. A woman had said she had found a white parakeet and asked me to call her right away. I began to cry and called my mother to tell her the news. My mother said she would pray for it to be Ingrid and told me to call her back with any news. I immediately called the woman who left the message and she told me she had gotten the parakeet from the doorman early Sunday afternoon. The doorman had seen a little bird walking around the lobby and had called her because he knew she loved animals. I quickly got dressed, grabbed the birdcage, and ran the few blocks to her apartment.

I was very anxious when I got there, but the woman and her friend who lived with her were so pleasant that I felt more at ease. I was puzzled to see a very large birdcage sitting in the middle of the living room. The women told me they were about to give the parakeet to a friend when another of their friends had told them about the flyer. I was told she had been kept in a cat carrier to be safe from their cats.

I was reluctant to peer into the cat carrier, for fear I’d be disappointed. But I was anxious to find out. As soon as I saw the little bird’s eyes, I knew it was Ingrid. I started crying from joy and all I could say to the women was that it was a miracle. They wondered about that for a bit, but I told them how I had just been praying for a long time to St. Anthony and my cousin. After they heard this, they too agreed it was a miracle. I could not thank them enough and asked them to please accept a reward. The women told me that my face had shown the love I had for this bird and that was reward enough. Being an artist, I offered to draw them a picture of Ingrid and Bridget and they accepted with glee. As I walked Ingrid back home, all I could think of was that during Ingrid’s flight she had not been alone. She had flown with St. Anthony and the prayers from the many people who cared for her.

Over the next few days I thought of how Ingrid’s loss and return had affected my life. I knew I would never be the same. My faith had grown with God, and I believed more than ever in the power of prayer. Because I had never lost hope for Ingrid, I was able to keep the strength not to give up, post all those flyers, ask friends and strangers for their help and their prayers. I learned that there are many compassionate people in the world who really care about animals. It was the doorman who first saved Ingrid. He could have thought of her as a pest and thrown her back out of the lobby window where she flew in. Then there were the two women who took her to safety and even found a home for her in those few days that they had her. I learned there are many people who do respect the lives of animals no matter how small or large. Soon thereafter I started tabling around the city for vegetarianism, for cruelty-free products and against fur. I felt strongly about speaking out for the animals because I knew there were many other kind and caring people out there like the ones I had recently met. There was hope for change and I knew I had to reach out to them for the animals.

Long ago, a flyer such as the one I give out now changed my respect for the animals. Now I think often that it could happen again and change another person’s life for the better. We owe it to the animals to be their voice and stop the victimization that goes on every day, no matter if it’s called a cat, or a dog, or bird. I believe most people are ready for that change and can live an unselfish, non-violent lifestyle. If we can begin to do that, we’ll realize how desperately the animals need us and how desperately we need them to live a peaceful and harmonious life. As long as we have hope and believe in the power of prayer, then miracles, as I found out, will happen.


 


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