the bird on the train

Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows that I truly love being on the subway. There is just something soothing about it for me, even during the packed rush hours and drunken late night rides. I like the way the train bumps and lurches under my seat and the soggy, damp smell of the underground. Sick as it sounds, even the occasional whiff of urine in a dark tunnel makes me feel a little more alive. I genuinely enjoy hearing the different personalities of the train conductors as they speak over that horrible intercom of theirs. Most of all, I love people watching on the train. It's a fact that the most amazing array of characters you will ever meet in your life will be found on any given train at any given time in New York City.

Sometimes, though, riding the subway is an experience that is not nice. There are moments when a trip on the train becomes frustrating or annoying. During rare episodes, it can even be a little frightening.

And then, on rare days, it is simply sad.

About a week ago, right at the brink of rush hour, I stepped on to an uptown bound F train. The car wasn't full yet, but there weren't that many seats available. I took one next to the least mangy looking female possible, and pulled out a book from my satchel, settling in for a thirty minute ride. I was barely a sentence into my paragraph when, out of nowhere --

chirp chirp chirp chirp
chirp!
chirp chirp chirp chirp
chirp!

A bird, frantically singing, her voice filling up the subway car. I looked around, confused. It didn't sound like a pigeon, which was the only kind of bird I ever saw underground. I noticed that a few other people were looking around as well, completely baffled.

A few moments of silence, and then again ....

those insistent chirps.

What the heck ...?

Every minute or so, like clockwork, the bird would begin singing. Sometimes it gave a half hearted peep, but most of the time it was full on cries. Loud cries. I won't say birdsong, because what bird in her right mind would be singing while captive inside of a subway?

My fellow passangers were craning their necks, looking around for the mysterious invisible bird. We were all hearing it, but none of us were seeing it. Perhaps it was a video game, or someone's (really annoying) cell phone ring. But it sounded so ... real.

Carefully I began inspecting every single person within chriping distance of me. An old white man was sitting next to me, newspaper clutched in hand, his eyes glaring about looking for the talkative creature that was disrupting his read. He obviously wasn't the bird carrier. Two Hispanic women were chatting in Spanish across from me, holding only small purses and a grocery bag. Not them, either. The couple making out by the door? No. The lady and the baby in her stroller? Nope.

One by one I narrowed down the culprits, finally settling on a seedy looking man with greasy hair and a black backpack. He held it on his lap, ignoring the bird cries coming from inside. He was the bird smuggler, no doubt. He had that dirty, grungy look that suited someone who would bring birds on the train.

I glared at him, as if to try and ask him what he was doing with that poor bird. I was upset by how he was treating the animal. He hadn't even opened his backpack up enough for the creature to get some air. The animal rights activist sleeping dormant inside of me began to rear her head and roar. (Internally, at least.) I was working up the courage to ask what he was doing with that bird when, at that very stop, he got off the train, backpack in tow.

The bird stopped chirping as soon as he got out of the train, so it was obviously the man.

I felt like a failure for not getting the courage to stand up for the rights of that little bird.

I have no idea what he was doing with the creature, but I can only hope it was a pet he was taking to the vet. However, I doubt it and the whole incident made me very sad. If it was a pet, wouldn't you have a cage for it? I had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

A bird in a backpack? Criminal.

I hope someone stows that man away in a giant bag sometime, just so he can see what it feels like.