Pulling into the driveway this evening, with the top down on my '99 Saab convertible, I spied a bird in the driveway. I slowed down, and listened to the plaintive cry of a baby beseeching the mother for help. Oh...it was a baby Blue Jay and it was scared and helpless and hopping into my garage.
Can you imagine taking your first test flight and falling flat on your ass, no cloud to support you and lift you up? No wind to capture you aloft and send you soaring to a higher height where time and elements might give you a better chance at actually mastering the art of flight?
I approached the baby with my mother voice, attempting to soothe and comfort. It just turned and stared at me through the bicycle tires...what to do now? As it stands, this little one spends the night in the garage and with God's grace, may attempt a few flights in space with walls before attempting once again, flight from a nest whose boundaries have no end.
P.S. The following morning I came out to the garage to get in my car and Lucy chased the baby bird to the garage door. It swacked at her and held it's own and when I opened the door, away it hopped, kinda flew.
All is well.
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