For the Birds

Earlier this week Dan and I had a special event happen at twilight. Dan woke me up and told me to look out the window. A horned owl was perched on our bird feeder in the back yard. By the pinkish pre-dawn light, we could make out its squareish head from the silhouette. I've never seen an owl outside of a cage.

We watched it for a few moments and then marveled at how it suddenly pounced on something below, presumbably a mouse. After its pre-dawn snack, it spread its great wings and smoothly flew away. It was better than watching television. Amazing.

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A few days later, I heard a loud *smack* on our living room bay window. I thought someone threw a snowball. I was disheartened to see a little bird on its back lying in the snow. Ugh. I tried to distract Morgan in the event that our flying friend would no longer be airborn.

After a little while, I was relieved to see that the little guy had flipped over on its stomach. He still wasn't moving much. I went outside and threw some pretzel crumbs in the snow for him. He gave me one of those confused, cocked-head looks.

I wanted to make sure he knew where he was. Summoning my knowledge of how to treat a patient with head trauma (none), I used a loud, clear voice and said the following: "You're a bird. You've had an accident. Birds fly. Now fly away."

About a half hour later the little guy vanished. I'm glad my words of encouragement worked.;)