The little woodpecker lay still, its right wing at an odd angle, its head turned to the side. Bright bird eyes stared at me, and black and white feathers quivered. I was amazed the small creature was still alive. Seconds ago it had crashed into my living room window and dropped to the deck. The orange plastic strips I tape on my windows apparently hadn’t been a deterrent.
With temps in the twenties, the fate of this bird was a toss of the dice. It was up to me to decide a course of action. Should I pick it up and bring it inside to recuperate? Should I leave it alone and not stress it? Since it had flown into my living room window, I felt responsible.
Running down the basement stairs, I searched around, finally finding the small cardboard box labeled “bird rescue” Dick and I keep for such occasions. The bottom is cushioned with a thick towel. Grabbing it, I rushed back outside, hoping the little bird had recuperated and flown.
It hadn’t but lay deathly still exactly as I had left it. No doubt the bird was not long for this world. Carefully, gently I cradled it in both hands and softly set it in the box. It lay inert.
Good. Giving a sigh of relief, I released one hand and started to shut the box flaps, planning to bring the little critter in the basement for some R&R. But the wild creature had other ideas. With sudden unexpected movement, it bolted straight into the air and flew 10 feet away to a lower section of deck railing. Here it sat.
What had I done? Forced it to fly before it was ready? Should I have left it alone? Feeling guilty but knowing there was nothing left for me to do, I crept inside and watched from the window. The bird clung to the railing. I washed and rinsed a few dishes and checked again. It was still sitting there. I continued my watch. Dick came home, and I shushed him before he could scare the bird. With quiet footsteps, we tiptoed out the door and took the dogs for a short walk.
Would the little bird still be clinging to life when I returned or would I find a small black and white corpse on the snow? When we returned, the rail was empty. Carefully we traipsed up the deck steps and tip-toed to the far end where the bird had been clinging.
It was gone! We searched the ground. No sight of feathers. No curled little claws. The tiny woodpecker had flown away. Its encounter with my window hadn’t done it in. I’d like to think this scenario won’t happen again but know better. A long winter stretches ahead. I’ll have to add more “stuff” to my windows, maybe stickers.
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