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The blackcap

This morning, I was sitting on the sofa slowly sipping coffee, when something crashed against the huge window of the living room. I jumped up and saw a tiny bird lying on the table of our balcony. Its tiny feet were wiggling, yet it could not get up. πŸ˜•

When I rushed outside to check on the little one, I saw that our tiger cat 😺 had beaten me to the chase. Angrily, I shouted at him, and he, who is not used to being shouted at, dropped the bird (more out of surprise, I think, than actual fear of me, poor fellow). After my boyfriend and me had closed him inside, we tried to examine our feathery guest.

It was hopping around our balcony, trying to fly away (who can blame it?) but one of its wings seemed off. We carefully put it in a cardboard box to rest, and I called the animal rescue. The guy made me promise to close the bird in a dark box so its metabolism would slow down and leave him be; he said he’d come soon to fetch the bird.

So I did what he said. For two hours that box sat with the lid closed on my balcony and I dared not touch it. Our tiger cat spent these two hours intently staring at the box through the glass door from inside – and his body language made it clear he was spitting mad at me.
It seemed like two very long hours to me, during which I wondered if the bird was still alive or had died, alone in a dark box. The thought made me incredibly sad..

Good news: when the volunteer from animal rescue got here and I carried the box out, I could hear the bird moving and I guess complaining inside. πŸ₯The volunteer listened to my recap of the morning’s events and estimated its wing might only have been bruised, but assured he’d check to make sure. Then, the female blackcap would either heal and be set free or not quite heal and be kept in the rescue station with other birds that would otherwise be too weak to be set free and die in nature.

This is for the blackcap. πŸ™‚πŸ₯

Fragile, your little body felt to me;
my hands tried to be soft,
but I’m unused to this fragility

Scared, I sat in my office;
I tried to get work done
but my heart kept wandering to you, wondering.

Were you scared in the dark?
Did you feel safe in the box?
Was it clear I was trying to help you?
Did it seem forever until something happened?

Hopefully, I lifted the box;
I felt so relieved to hear you move,
my laughter bubbled with joy.

I wish you’ll fly again.
I wish you’ll feel free.

Author: carasmelody

daydreamer, hopelessly hopeful, I love the power of words, I love poems, words are soulfood

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