I was in the kitchen doing the dishes.

“Aaron! There’s an injured bird on the sidewalk in front of the house!”

I quickly dried off my hands and rushed through the house out the front door. Sure enough, flopping rather pathetically on the sidewalk in front of our house was a tiny brown bird. Is his wing broken? Leg? My mind flashed through all those cartoons and PSA’s I saw as a child where the adult would show the kids how to make a splint out of popsicle sticks, bandage the bird up until its wing healed, and then set it free. Would I have to do that?

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Categories: Musings, Writing Pieces
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