Apart from wanting to know if I'd begun pricing polo ponies and in-ground swimming pools, `Will you be going on tour, doing readings?' was the first question my friends asked me after a publisher bought the opening three chapters of a book I was writing - a memoir about my life with a house sparrow, the remarkable B.

Byline: GUEST VIEWPOINT By Chris Chester For The Register-Guard

Apart from wanting to know if I'd begun pricing polo ponies and in-ground swimming pools, `Will you be going on tour, doing readings?' was the first question my friends asked me after a publisher bought the opening three chapters of a book I was writing - a memoir about my life with a house sparrow, the remarkable B.

That book, ``Providence of a Sparrow: Lessons From a Life Gone to the Birds,'' is, I'm proud to say, the featured title for the 2007 Readin' in the Rain celebration, organized by Eugene and Springfield libraries and bookstores to inspire the whole community to read and talk about one book each February.

If for no reason other than historical continuity, the choice is appropriate. In September 2002, I gave my first public presentation of "Providence" at the University of Oregon Bookstore. I'd barely heard of myself at that point, so my astonishment was considerable when people - actual human beings with discretionary incomes and more promising entertainment options - showed up to hear an obscure author read something he'd written about turning a room in his house over to a bird many people in this country would consider a pest. To tell you that I have a soft spot in my heart for Eugene's reading public rather understates the facts.

My next stop, a `signing' in Bend, was less inspiring. In accommodating authors who dwell near the bottom of the literary food chain, bookstores consider signings less dicey than readings because of the risks associated with permitting writers to open their mouths. I sat in silence for three hours watching patrons avoid eye contact with me after they stumbled in from the cold and found themselves ambushed by my presence. By the end of the afternoon, the store's owners looked at me as if I were a rump-sprung couch they'd gladly pay to have hauled away.

`Son,' said the one person moved to pity that day by my sad cow eyes, `if you're crazy enough to write a whole damn book about a bird, I'm crazy enough to buy one. Sign it if you want, however you want.' A copy of "Providence of a Sparrow" exists somewhere that bears the following inscription: `To Ezra Pound - From Your Pal, Dashiell Hammett.'

In the presentations I've done since then, the high points have outweighed the lows - vastly so. Scores of readers have contacted me to say that the story of B's life has caused a fundamental shift in their relationship with aspects of creation they previously ignored.

Certainly, that was B's gift to me and is the one I stress each time I address audiences on his behalf. That a tiny bird possessed a consciousness as vigorous as the one I'm vain enough to ascribe to myself is an article of faith I hold that's based on evidence that grew day by day over the 10 years of our life together. I for one began to suspect hidden possibilities the morning B instructed me on the finer points of playing a game of fetch.

As I write this piece, the sound of bird chatter filters down the stairwell. I know their voices well, can name without error who's calling whom. Pee Wee and Seven are in the mix, along with four other sparrows new to the house since I completed "Providence."

I'll drift upstairs in a little while and sit with the sparrows. They will flutter down to me after I'm seated. There will be widespread interest when I break out an offering of toasted almonds. Pee Wee will eat her fill and thank me afterward by gently pecking my lips. Scruffy will nestle in my palm. The others will likely ruffle my hair and sit on my head.

A dutiful caretaker would rise then and busy himself with cleaning - rooms that contain birds minus cages more or less demand it. Today, however, I'll probably nap. If I'm lucky, I'll awake in an hour having dreamed of B.

Chris Chester of Portland is the author of ``Providence of a Sparrow,'' winner of the Oregon Book Award for creative nonfiction in 2003. Free Readin' in the Rain events include the Umbrella Opening kickoff at 6:30 p.m. Friday at the Eugene Public Library, and a reading by the author at 7 p.m. Feb. 21 at the Hult Center. For information about drop-in book discussions, go to www.read-rain.org or call 682-5450.