SURVIVOR--

I was feeding the birds this morning and flushed a disabled junco from under dormant cover in the rock garden. It half scramble-flopped its way to safety under a nearby woodpile. Then, I remembered—

Yesterday I heard a horrible thunk against the deck door glass and saw a junco sprawled in a layer of new, powdered snow; flat on its back, wings spread, motionless. I checked later and, later again. Comatose. Sad.

Then, later again; it was moving its head. Still later, it had righted itself, and, finally I found nothing but it’s depression in the white fluff; much like a child’s miniature snow angel.

Such an injury violates a compassionate human’s sense of civility. But, unless licensed as an animal care giver it is recommended we simply let nature take its course in such instances; except, maybe, shooing away a neighbor’s marauding cat while there is still hope.

After seeing the courageous survivor this morning, I found myself going back to the shed for more seed and sprinkled an additional ration for my injured little friend.