Birds of a Feather

The other morning, Kylie came running into my bedroom. "Mom, Mom" she said, "there is a poor little bird that just hit our window, and now he's hurt - you have to help him." I ran down to find a stunned bird on our back porch. He had hit our window with such force, that a feather was still on the window. My first thought was to call my dad - who is a rattlesnake wrangler by day, and has saved many a bird in his time. But, with the Tennessee to California time difference, it was too early. I told the very concerned kids not to touch him, so they just watched patiently, saying "poor little bird". Jordan set up his soccer net to protect it from cats, and Kylie put up a baseball glove to keep the wind away. Kylie wanted to bring him inside, but I knew we would have a very difficult time getting him out once he was better.

Anyway, there is a happy ending to the story. The bird recovered, and is flying around minus a feather. The kids felt as though they helped the bird, and in typing this, I realized that some things never change - when we didn't know what to do, and needed help, both Kylie and I thought of our parents first.