dreams of ice and wings. so delicate, these things.

Thursday evening, I was in the family room hanging out or something, and Kiana came in crying. Since this is in no way an unusual occurrence, it was much more interesting what she said: "Dad's gonna kill a bird."

Since this isn't a usual occurrence, we were all a little nonplussed. Turns out a little bird hit the living room window where Kiana was reading, and was on the ground all skewampus. Mom and Dad were worried it'd broken its back, or its neck, and of course the kindest thing to do would be to put it out of its misery.

Mom brought it in for us to look at. Its wings were fluttering in panic as she held it gently in her cupped hands. We all looked at it. It was crooked. But as we watched, it did better and better until it looked like a normal little bird. So instead of taking it to the executioner, Mom put it outside. Where it sat. And flew around to the patio.

The bird was still there when it got dark, and to save it from any hungry cats that might be around, we put together a little shoebox for it, with water and bread, next to the open window.

It was still there in the morning, but looked all right. It liked to fly down to the carpet and hang out there, and Friday morning while we were supposed to be getting ready to go to the Rytting Family Reunion, we all gathered around and watched it. Copious pictures were taken. The little bird was stroked, picked up, and fussed over. Kiana even picked two raspberries for it, after looking it up (an orange-crest warbler) and seeing that it only ate bugs and berries.

Then we had to go. We left it on the carpet (spreading a dishtowel first) with water and the berries. Occasionally while hanging out with cousins and the like, we would wonder if it was okay.

But we all knew what we'd find when we got home.

It had folded its wings neatly, closed its eyes, and gone to sleep. When its deep muscles stopped working to keep it upright, it had tipped slightly forward onto the carpet. Dad, Mom, and I were the only ones to look. I didn't think it was sad -- its leg was broken, and I think that would be enough pain to put any small creature out before too long. It looked peaceful, and it had drunk some water and nibbled at some berry, so I might go so far as to say it had been well cared for.

I think Kiana still cried.

"Now Three" ~ Vienna Teng

(You may or may not have noticed that I have used this title before. I thought it fit this one better than the other, so I have adjusted that one's title.)