The Sparrow Who Forgot Her Wings

The Little Sparrow and Her Forgotten Wings

BY: Ubaid

She had been flying for quite a while, fluttering endlessly across the open sky. Her wings were aching, heavy with exhaustion, and her stomach grumbled with hunger. The little sparrow longed for a safe haven where she could rest and find some food. At last, after circling for what felt like hours, she spotted a house with a spacious courtyard.

Down below, a small girl was scattering grain, and tiny chicks were hopping about, pecking eagerly at the scattered kernels. The sight filled the sparrow with relief. She darted down swiftly, landing in the courtyard and joining the feast of grain.

But the moment didn’t last long.

Among the chicks, the mother hen suddenly noticed the unfamiliar visitor. Her sharp eyes narrowed, and her feathers bristled. She moved closer, staring at the sparrow with the kind of protective anger only a mother possesses. The sparrow could sense danger radiating from the hen’s gaze. Her tiny heart began to pound.

Just as she prepared to leap away, another predator appeared—silently, slyly. A cat crept into the courtyard. Now both the hen and the cat had their eyes fixed on the sparrow, as though she were some rare prize to be claimed. Fear surged through her fragile body. She knew she was trapped.

Before she could even react, yet another threat burst onto the scene. A dog, large and fierce, came bounding in, barking thunderously. His sharp growls seemed to declare to the hen and the cat: “This new guest belongs to me!” The sparrow froze. Her tiny wings trembled. She felt utterly defenseless against this brutal army of enemies.

The dog lunged closer, eyes blazing. The sparrow had only seconds to save herself. With desperate energy, she flapped and hopped toward the only possible refuge—the broken window on the wall. She managed to perch on its edge just as the dog snapped at the empty air behind her.

There, inside the cracked frame of the window, she found a narrow corner to hide. Her whole body quivered. Her face seemed drained of color, and fear gripped her like iron chains. She thought to herself, “If this window had not been here, I would already be in that monster’s stomach.”

As the night fell, her fear only deepened. Darkness wrapped the courtyard, and the predators still lingered. The sparrow tucked herself into the corner, whispering prayers to her Creator, begging for protection. Her hunger gnawed at her insides, but greater than hunger was the crushing weight of despair.

Her thoughts grew bitter. “Why was I born a sparrow? If only I had been created as a human being, no one would hunt me down. No one would try to swallow me whole. Humans live freely, without the constant fear of being someone’s meal. They enjoy peace and comfort. But I… I spend my days fleeing from claws and teeth.”

The night dragged on, cruel and endless. The sparrow remained awake, trembling, thirsty, and weak, cursing her fate again and again. The courtyard echoed with silence, broken only by the faint growls of the dog waiting below.

At long last, the dawn arrived. Pale sunlight crept into the sky. The sparrow cautiously peeked out from the window. To her relief, there were no predators left—no cat, no hen, no dog. She let out a shaky breath. For the first time since yesterday, her heart felt a glimmer of hope.

But just then, the little girl appeared again. She came close to the window and noticed the sparrow crouched inside. To the child, the bird looked nearly lifeless—her wings drooping, her body fragile, her spirit drained. Curious, the girl reached out her finger and gently touched the bird.

The sparrow’s heart sank in dread. “What will she do to me? Will she capture me, cage me, or hurt me?” She braced for the worst.

Instead, the girl bent close and whispered softly, “Oh dear… it looks like this little sparrow doesn’t have any wings.”

The words struck the sparrow like a thunderclap.

One word echoed in her mind, louder than the rest: wings.

She inhaled deeply, as if life itself had been poured back into her. Slowly, almost instinctively, she stretched her tiny wings. They quivered at first, then fluttered with growing strength. She had been so lost in fear and despair that she had forgotten the greatest gift God had given her—her ability to fly.

With renewed energy, she spread her wings wide and soared upward. Within seconds, she left the courtyard behind, climbing higher and higher until she disappeared into the vast blue sky.

The little sparrow had finally remembered what she already possessed: freedom.

She realized then that every creature, every living soul, had been created complete by the Creator. No one is left without gifts. Some blessings may be hidden, but they are always there—waiting to be recognized, waiting to be used.

That morning, as she soared joyfully across the endless heavens, the sparrow carried with her a truth many humans forget: that gratitude begins not with asking for more, but with discovering what we already have.