Bird on the Wing
Yesterday, our dog barked at something. Yes, he generally barks at all and sundry, but yesterday it was a special bark, a playful bark. Like when he catches a mole.
My daughter and I ran outside and saw the dog with a little animal on the ground in front of it. Thinking it was another mole, we looked closely, and saw it was a sparrow, lying on its back, alive and breathing rapidly. We turned it over but it didn't walk nor attempt to fly. We thought the dog must have injured it somehow, so I took it out and put it in the grass underneath a fruit tree, to let it die in peace.
Our dog has a complicated relationship with the sparrows in our barn. Sometimes they will fly to his food bowl, and try to peck at the croquets we serve him. Our Tommy doesn't like that, so when he sees them trying to eat his food, he runs after them. They fly away, but yesterday one of them didn't fly fast enough. Once he scared it away from the food, he decided to play with it. He doesn't quite understand the difference between a large dog and a tiny sparrow.
Later, my husband was preparing to mow the grass. I warned my daughter about the sparrow. She and her father found it, still alive. They brought it inside and placed it in a shoe box with holes in the cover. Against all prognosis, the bird was still alive, and even standing on its pin-legs. But it wasn't moving much. We had to place the box in a closed room because our cats were starting to get interested. Too interested. Delinquent Anton wanted to know just what was in the box.
Assuming it had died, we went into that room a few hours later and opened the lid. The sparrow flew out, trying to find its way out of the house. Anton had pushed the door open, and was now in hunter mode. We caught him and pushed him out, shutting the door in his face. My husband finally caught the sparrow in a corner and put it back in the box. Since it was night, we decided to let it free in the morning.
This morning with the lightening of the skies, my husband opened the window and let it free. I assume the little bird sprained a wing muscle or a leg muscle when the dog caught it and just needed to recuperate. But I don't think it was grateful to us for shutting it in a shoe box.
My daughter and I ran outside and saw the dog with a little animal on the ground in front of it. Thinking it was another mole, we looked closely, and saw it was a sparrow, lying on its back, alive and breathing rapidly. We turned it over but it didn't walk nor attempt to fly. We thought the dog must have injured it somehow, so I took it out and put it in the grass underneath a fruit tree, to let it die in peace.
Our dog has a complicated relationship with the sparrows in our barn. Sometimes they will fly to his food bowl, and try to peck at the croquets we serve him. Our Tommy doesn't like that, so when he sees them trying to eat his food, he runs after them. They fly away, but yesterday one of them didn't fly fast enough. Once he scared it away from the food, he decided to play with it. He doesn't quite understand the difference between a large dog and a tiny sparrow.
Later, my husband was preparing to mow the grass. I warned my daughter about the sparrow. She and her father found it, still alive. They brought it inside and placed it in a shoe box with holes in the cover. Against all prognosis, the bird was still alive, and even standing on its pin-legs. But it wasn't moving much. We had to place the box in a closed room because our cats were starting to get interested. Too interested. Delinquent Anton wanted to know just what was in the box.
Assuming it had died, we went into that room a few hours later and opened the lid. The sparrow flew out, trying to find its way out of the house. Anton had pushed the door open, and was now in hunter mode. We caught him and pushed him out, shutting the door in his face. My husband finally caught the sparrow in a corner and put it back in the box. Since it was night, we decided to let it free in the morning.
This morning with the lightening of the skies, my husband opened the window and let it free. I assume the little bird sprained a wing muscle or a leg muscle when the dog caught it and just needed to recuperate. But I don't think it was grateful to us for shutting it in a shoe box.
Lovely story.
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