Today a little bird flew into the porch. It’s wrong turn made that bird fly into Hell. There were 3 sleeping cats until they heard the flutter of wings against the screen. Each of the cats stood at a different location waiting for their kill. I looked like a lunatic running up and down the porch trying to chase the bird away from the many jaws of death. The poor thing was so frightened, it was speaking in bird-ese, whistling for help as it kept slamming into the screens getting weaker and weaker, flying lower and lower. Finally I was able to get my hand around it and take it outside, much to the cats dismay.
I could feel the heartbeating so fast, it’s head looking away from me. I did take a quick picture, (obviously), and then opened my hand and let it fly.  Away it went, to the shelter of the grapefruit tree, the closest tree from the door.
The cats look perplexed, where was their entertainment? They realized the show was over and went back to their sleeping positions around the porch.
Within my hand had been the softest, little bird. It’s life left up to me to save. I shuddered thinking about what would have happened if I had not had the windows and doors open, or if I had been away. Sometimes the thought of such responsibility for saving even the smallest life is almost overwhelming, my heart began to flutter as fast at that bird’s beat against my hand…