A Wee Little Bird—-Sunday, August 2, 2020

Terry came back from town Friday with a wee little bird stuck to his grill

What a horror! It was still breathing, although, not moving

After removing the tiny sweet little thing, I placed in my horse trough flower bed for safely and (hopefully) healing.

Then, truly not knowing HOW to help the little bird, or even what to do for the little bird, I sent word to the heavens and all those beings with gossamer wings to heal and protect this tiny creature

The first day was spent under the leaves, rustling around; creating little ghostly whispers, whenever I came near.

So far, so good.  The wings are starting to be held closer to the body.  I haven’t tried to pick the little bird up [yet] incase of internal damage.

When I do I will check it’s little legs and toes.

My prayer is this little one can heal and fly away.  Until then I will continue to provide protection, food, and water.

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,



23 thoughts on “A Wee Little Bird—-Sunday, August 2, 2020

  1. Oh my goodness. Sounds like you are doing all you can. 🙏🐦🙏
    Come on little one, you can rest & heal in good hands for a while. Then it will be time to fly ~


      • Speaking of birds, I woke up this morning to strange metal sounds. Something had gotten into our wood stove flue in the den. At first, I thought a squirrel was rummaging around but, then, I heard the flutter of wings. I woke Ken up and he swore that it was impossible for a bird to get in…while said birdie continued to flutter around.

        We opened the door, opened flue and put a plastic bag over the opening to try and catch it. I could tell the poor thing was exhausted and I had no idea how long it had been in there before I woke up.


          • OMG. Half of my comment is missing. I nearly wrote you a book. *sigh* Stupid WP…

            He/she rested a bit (it got quiet) then, out it came, right past my bag catch. LOL! It flew around a bit (pooped on the floor), looking for a way out. I opened the kitchen window (it was going from window to window because it could see the outside). Ollie was going nuts, following it around. It finally made it to the kitchen, perched on the sill and flew out. I suspect it headed straight for our backdoor neighbor’s bird bath to wash off. A little brown Carolina Wren looks funny, black.

            I was so worried because, until I woke Ken up, I didn’t know how to get it out and, I didn’t want it to suffer and die. He’s hard of hearing so, it took a while before he heard something…and believed me. I giggled for a half hour when it flew out. I love the little Wrens. They tickle the hell out of me.

            Ken phoned a chimney-sweep/vent specialist to find out how the little thing got in…and fix any holes. Isaias wasn’t strong enough to do any damage so, I told Ken that it must be age that has caused an opening. We get a visit, tomorrow.


  2. Pingback: Sherlock Boomer—-What Mom Doesn’t Know, Chapter Seven, Friday, August 7, 2020 | Life on a Colorado Farm

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