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I confess that when I was a child and pre-adolescent I used to go out with my friends to hunt birds in the forest, in order to take them to my grandmother who had a huge cage with different types of them.
I liked to be there in the morning because it was the time of the day when they seemed to agree to sing their melodies, different but melodious, they were like an orchestra whose sound relaxed me and transported me to other places.
When I grew up it was one of the things I found abominable, since I understood that being caged should not be pleasant for any living being, least of all for those who have the whole earth to fly.
I understand that the concrete and concrete jungle that has displaced the natural one has no space for other species and that the predatory sense of human beings is above their capacity to discern about the necessary coexistence with other species.
Although naturalist groups have recently emerged claiming the possibility of defending animals from the human pack, there are still people who prefer to listen to caged birds rather than do so because it has provided them with trees where they can do so.
I have been reluctant to live in buildings, I feel like those birds and thank God I have managed in this self-imposed exile to get single-family houses, with patios and trees and the possibility of planting others.
And in the midst of the nostalgia, in the mornings and evenings there is some winged creature that trills its melodies and transports me to those places that my grandmother's caged birds did.
I have placed hanging feeders and water containers for them, as well as planted some fruit trees and placed some chairs at a point where their songs seem to converge.
Perhaps old age has come to me prematurely, as a friend says, but in recent years my sensitivity towards animals has grown and I try to reward them with affection, water and food so that their brief stay in this world is not so hard.