A sickening noise came from the dining room window. A small body fell to the brick pavers below.
She walked over to the window, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. The last time, the poor bird’s neck was broken.
A palm warbler lay on its side. Another flew about, worried, trying to get him up and fly away, then hightailed it back to the oak tree.
Poor thing. He was breathing so heavy, his beak open. He couldn’t stand, just laying there on his side.
She unlatched the door and stepped outside to check on him. He struggled to move, still stuck on his side.
She sat down and carefully picked him up into her palms. Softly she soothed him. She wasn’t sure if he would pass from internal injuries or, perhaps he was only stunned.
After a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal, and he found his footing in her hands. Nothing seemed broken as he stood on both his feet.
She stood up and took her little friend over to the planter box, then set him down to rest in a ray of sun. She wanted to keep him away from the neighborhood hunter, a black and white tuxedo cat.
He hopped a few times in the bed, then tilted his head at her and sat back down to rest.
She came back a little later to check on him. He had flown off, rejoining his friend in the tree. A happy ending.