Ok, so the other day I’m working away at home and I’m startled by the sound of what I know to be a bird crashing into the glass doors going out on to the deck. We have placed things from the bird store on those doors to let our feathered friends know that they do not represent a flyway.

Nonetheless, some continue to occasionally think otherwise and smash on into them. So it’s a familiar sound. Knowing that, I rushed to the doors to see a young female Downy Woodpecker tilting to one side, dazed and I hoped, not dying.

We have had both things happen. The dazed and dying birds and the just dazed birds look the same initially. You look and hope to see the little feathery bundle before you snap out of it and fly off.

As I watched I worried about the neighbor cat that routinely makes rounds through the yard on the prowl. We know this cat to be a great chipmunk hunter and bird eater. Watching from a few feet away, should needs be, I could open the door quickly and scare that cat away.

A few minutes passed and there was no positive sign that the little treasure was mustering a recovery. No positive sign is a bad sign. Usually, by now, a few minutes post glass door encounter the just dazed critters, are showing signs of a comeback.

Not so this little one. The sun was bright on the deck on the way to bringing us the hottest day of the year. As a few more minutes ticked by without any encouraging changes I began to worry about the heat and the hot deck.

What to do? My wife is a bird whisperer but she was at work. My cell was by my computer. I could go call her in hopes that she would be available for a consultation. However, I decided to make an executive decision not wanting to leave the scene where I could quickly defend the vulnerable young bird.

What I did was open the door and gently take the little woodpecker in my hand and
sat on the bench, holding the dazed darling in the shade. Her beak was open, her eyes slowly opened then closed and she seemed to be quietly panting.

This young Downy Woodpecker was so small in my hand I could easily enfold her without harm. I thought, perhaps wrongly, that she might feel safe in that human nest as she did in her own nest shortly before our encounter. Now and then, I would open my hand, flatten out my grip and gently stroke her to see if she would then fly safely away.

She didn’t.

I wanted her to yet I also cherished that moment holding that precious little life in my hand.

What now to do? I made another decision. I did not know if my hand would soon also be too warm a place for her, should she be able, to recover. So I took her around the side of the house to the front yard, which is totally shaded. Shade is good but I couldn’t just set her down in the grass. It would be cooler but she would be in danger of becoming a feline feast.

Therefore, walking by the recycle bin I grabbed the green soon to be bird shelter to protect little Donna Downey. We name our yard birds. The male Downy Woodpeckers are Dudley Downey and the females Donna. The male cardinals are Carlos and the females, Carlita. You get the idea.

Anyway, after placing Donna gently down upon the cool, shaded grass I placed the recycle bin upside down over her for a safe perimeter. Should she begin to recover, she would have room to move about to get her bearings.

I then went inside to text my wife. “Call me, bird news….” Surely you’ve noticed, time goes by more slowly while waiting to share certain experiences. This wait was one of those.

When she did call, which she did immediately upon getting my text, I related the story you have just read as I walked outside to the front yard toward the bird hospital.

I stood by the green upside down recycle bin as I finished my tale. She, as I was, was curious as to the current state of Donna’s health or lack thereof. Not knowing yet hoping for the best, I shared with my wife the moment of truth.

I lifted off the bin to find there to be no change with my little charge. Donna had not moved from the spot upon which I placed her. Was she still breathing? She hadn’t moved, was she still with us?

My neighbors from across the street had seen me place her under that green cover, stopped their yard work to see if there had been any change.

Nothing!

I say nothing because I did detect breathing and some eye movement.

All of us waited, fully attentive, holding our breath to see what, if anything, would happen. Nothing, nothing what so ever and then…………….

That little rascal, in one fell swoop, alerted and quick as a wink, flew up into the maple tree. WHOOPEE !

What a treat. There she was, in profile on the trunk about 15 feet up. And there we were, pretty high ourselves. By phone and by yard, smiles all round.

Such a small thing in the larger scheme of things. No matter. Having a chance to participate in the natural world reminds us of our connection to all that is and provides a sense of perspective about what makes a good day. Sharing that experience may remind others.