Intricacies: Part Seven

Turdus migratorius

Fear arose from the feathered chest, rising and falling, the heart beating as if it wanted to burst into the palm of my hand. Just seconds before, the bird hopped about in desperation, evading the jaws of an old dog determined to catch it. Its wings begged to fly but never found the strength to do so. And so I found myself there, crawling through the grass and scooping the animal into my hands, the hens screaming above me. The fledgling resisted and then softened, collapsing on its side and nestling into my palm. The tuft of soft, white hair upon its crown was strewn about, disheveled, and its feet gripped my fingers. Its eye squinted and then closed, and I walked. I walked until a fence separated us and then I walked some more. When I squatted down among the trees, the songbird lay still for a moment, only opening an eye to peer up at me. And then, as the screams of the grown passerines rang in my ears, the baby robin stood to its feet and sprung forward into the greenery below.

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