Do you even know who I am? 

　　I am a little bird, a sparrow—in your childhood you used to be so happy to see me flying in and out of your house. Your mother always kept some water in a vessel for me. I had my breakfasts or lunches with your family countless times. The granite slab in your kitchen garden used to be the main place where I would find my food. I was a part of your family. 

　　You not only fed me but also gave me a home, my cute little nest. It was a project for your summer vacation to prepare a bird’s nest. You really enjoyed the task and, under the guidance of your parents, you, with a child-like dedication, collected each and every twig, leaf, and strand of grass, and assembled all of it into a beautiful nest. It took the whole vacation to finish, and yours was the best in your class. When the class teacher returned everyone’s nests, you brought yours home and placed it in the branches of the bougainvillea in your kitchen garden. I didn’t miss the chance. The very next morning, when you curiously looked into the nest, you found me resting with my wings covering my face. You screamed from excitement, and for a moment I was shocked and fluttered away from the nest—but then, when I realized you were just a child and unable to control your sudden emotions, I came fluttering back. 

　　I laid my eggs in the nest you made for me. When my chicks hatched out, you watched me feed them every day. In your innocence, you started putting huge quantities of food on that granite slab. You thought that I needed more food to feed my babies. That was so nice of you. The first time I flew out with my babies, you were happier than me. 

　　It was all going fine for a while, but gradually you became so busy in your quest to become somebody important in this world. I always prayed for your success, and my prayers were answered. You got a very good job, a handsome salary—in fact, all that you wanted to posses. In time, you became so materialistic that you forgot the simple, pure happiness we used to get from each other. 

　　That’s why I flew away from the home you made for me. To my disappointment, you never ever even noticed it. The bougainvillea also no longer exists in your kitchen garden. You uprooted it to make a parking space for your car. Even the cellphone you use has a negative effect on my health. My friends and I are slowly disappearing, destined to become extinct soon. 

　　I wish all you humans could start caring, really caring, about species like ours, so that we can coexist. Ask yourself: When was the last time you saw me? A little vulnerable sparrow…does anyone care about creatures like me?