The Irony of Darwinism in Emily Dickinson's A Bird Came Down a Walk

A great majority of American writers tend to idolize the sense of the natural as wholly separate from the manmade universe. Emily Dickinson contrasts the civilized versus the natural world as she delves into the inherent character of a seemingly mundane animal in her poem A Bird Came Down a Walk. Superficially, the poem appears to be a casual observation of a bird, frightened into flight by the appearance of a human being. Yet, as she tells this seemingly simple story, she speaks indirectly of the timeless differences that exist between nature and mankind. Although humanity approaches nature with the stereotypical superiority of Darwinism, it is the bird who chooses to escape. Dickinson mocks the ignorance of man's hierarchal views of nature, as it is nature itself who flees from the tainted touch of mankind.

As the mundane bird transitions into a magnificent sight of grace, the tone follows the flow from a humdrum dullness to a state of almost eerie awe. The reader is originally given the impression of an unintelligent animal as the bird satisfies its physical necessities, drinking merely because it is "convenient"(6). Observations by the narrator are placed within the realm of human behavior during the first two stanzas, contrasting the savagery of nature to the civility of mankind. As the bird eats the worm "raw"(4), the narrator displays a tone of contemptuous disgust at its carnal behavior.

When the threat of human taint is offered in the form of a crumb, the bird begins to gain its character in its fear, possessing eyes that look "like frightened beads"(11). Dickinson switches the tone to that of terror, implying the impurity of humanity in the creature's rushed escape. By the time of its flight into the oceanic sky, the attitude from the beginning has completely reversed, so that nature is being held in a state of almighty awe. Moving from the ground into the sky, the bird has positioned itself higher both physically, and spiritually, than man, defying the man made rules of Darwinism. Structured in a similar manner, the poem's technical aspects follow this transition of nature.

Dickinson's poetry is unique in its ability to wrap complexity in relatively simple verse. She rarely deviates from her use of basic iambic trimeter and ABCB rhyme scheme, yet incorporates these few instances to subtly emphasize her point. In each stanza, the third line is in iambic tetrameter, except for the fourth stanza in which all four lines are in the standard iambic trimeter. It is this fourth stanza that becomes the transition point for the bird, during which it is preparing to makes its ascent into the air and flee from the clutches of the human. With a mere omission of a foot, she manages to give the stanza a sense of rush as it reads through more rapidly than the others.

Similarly, she fills the last three stanzas with forced rhymes such as "abroad"(10) and "head"(12), in contrast to the straight rhymes of the first two stanzas like "saw"(2) and "raw"(4). When the bird is first introduced, it is in a humdrum manner as it fulfills the mundane activities with which such animals are associated. She links this superficial observation of the first two stanzas with basic rhymes, but by the third stanza, and incidentally the introduction of human interference, the bird has begun to its move from ordinary to an exemplar of natural beauty. The rhyme scheme is thereby skewed to better translate the intricacies of nature. It is only after the bird escapes human control that these complexities emerge in the poem.

The same subtle approach is evident in Dickinson's use of words throughout the verses. Although her diction is not especially complex, her constant use of defamiliarization introduces common words in utterly new senses, and the complexity gradually increases with each stanza. She describes the bird in starkly simple tones in the first two stanzas, and the reader is lulled into a sense of dull familiarity. By the third stanza, the bird has detected human presence and Dickinson relates this fear through his eyes, which "hurried all abroad"(10).

Her use of the word abroad in this context is unexpected, and it insinuates a sense of foreboding in a strange land, specifically this one belonging to humans, with whom words like "danger"(13) and "cautious"(13) are associated. The diction immediately changes to one which invokes a more fluid sense of beauty when the bird escapes. As she describes its flight akin to a uniquely smooth ocean, she twists her words to create a strong sense of imagery for the reader. Using words like "[his feathers] rowed him softer home"(16) in place of mere flight, Dickinson paints this generally mundane image with an almost ethereal sense of grace. As she employs this ocean image as a metaphor for the sky, she links the two worlds in which humans cannot flourish. The bird can row and the butterflies can swim, but manmade innovations like "oars"(17) can never recreate the natural smoothness that is "too silver for a seam"(18). Dickinson was ever conscious of the fluidity within her poem, employing punctuation as means to guide the reader. The first two stanzas are distinguished again from the rest, both ending decisively with periods.

The narrator's observations are definite statements in which the bird's freedom seems unattainable. A colon and semi-colon are present within the first and second lines of the first stanza, separating each line into a different thought, and sounding almost meticulous and blandly traditional. Within line four, as she explains that he "ate the fellow, raw"(4), the word raw is emphasized by the comma preceding this afterthought, and it serves to portray the original contrast of this supposedly savage bird to civilized humanity. By the second stanza, she has removed the longer punctuation, and it flows smoother than the choppy verses prior. Yet, this stanza is also separated from the others as the bird is still held as a commonplace animal and has not yet begun to exemplify nature as a whole.

The only dash is at the end of line ten, cutting the poem into two distinct halves, that during which the bird remains ordinary and that during which the bird and the butterflies take fluid flight. It is interesting also how the dash differentiates the moment of human interference in nature, as it is only after the dash that the bird realizes the presence of a person and escapes home. Within the fourth stanza, the semi-colon serves to emphasize the word "cautious"(13), precipitating the intense flight of escape to come. By the last stanza, the pace of the poem has slowed from the rapid sense of fear of the third and fourth stanzas, and she incorporates several commas into the lines. In separating the key elements of this essential final stanza, she is adding both drama and a sense of magnanimity.

The last stanza carries with it the most weight, both in beauty of language and emphasis on meaning. Teeming with alliteration and assonance, Dickinson chooses a more blunt literary technique to bring focus to her main points. Incorporating both the "o" and "s" sounds in the beginning, she uses these softer letters to fit in with the pattern of fluidity that was established in the previous stanza. Moving abruptly onwards, she introduces within the last two lines a more strident sound with "butterflies, off banks of noon"(19).

As opposed to the "softer"(16), "velvet"(12) image with which the bird is now associated, the butterflies "leap"(20), bringing a sort of invigorating energy which has almost gotten lost within the concept of a smooth and shining ocean. Unlike the lone bird, who rows through this ocean air, the butterflies, notice her use of the plural, swim on the banks. While the bird is the solemn gracefulness of natural beauty, the butterflies encompass that wild spirit which is necessary to truly escape from the clutches of mankind.

Yet, they too contain the capacity for fluidity, and Dickinson ensures that their leaps are "plashless as they swim"(20). She continues to maintain her use of similar consonant sounds throughout this last stanza, choosing to use the obscure form of plash, in place of splash, resulting in an infinitely smoother reading. The reader completes this last stanza a little dazed, as the disparity between the beginning and the end is a fairly large gap. By the final thought, the narrator's perception of the bird has gone from a bored superiority to a feeling of almost reverence. Taking its place in a combination of two wholly natural worlds, the creatures are above the land, a sphere completely destroyed by man's contamination.

Dickinson is not merely trumpeting praise for the all glorifying perfection of nature. Rather, she uses these mundane creatures as a contrast against the inevitable corruption of humanity. As the stanzas progress, the verses' stray further from the original sensation of civilization that serves to create the rather dull beginning. Although the person struggles to maintain the distinction between civility, mankind, and savagery, nature, the poem takes an almost ironic twist when the bird takes a flight of frantic escape away from the domesticating attempts of the speaker.

Humanity maintains that all creatures are inferior to mankind, yet it is nature itself who struggles to avoid the contamination brought by men. Dickinson portrays humanity in a less flattering light, full of pomposity, and makes patently evident the taint of human influence on the true beauty of nature. It is only after the bird has rapidly ascended into the air that it embraces its inherent spirit, and embodies the wild freedom that is innate in all creatures.