There it lay. In the road, flailing about.
I slowed to look, stopped and got out of the car to see what was going on. An adult male eastern towhee had been hit and lay there panting. Birds pant when they are hurt or stressed or scared.
Picking it up, I soon realized this was not its first brush with trouble. The towhee was missing his left foot. An old wound, the leg had healed. But now it had a new trauma.
Sitting him on the passenger seat I drove home hoping to assess the damage. Still its mouth was agape. Still it panted, looking around. I spoke to it softly.
“That a boy. You’ll be OK.”
What was he thinking as he surveyed the inside of my car?
“Is this guy Charon? Ferrying me across the River Styx?”
Do birds think such thoughts? Does Charon drive a Ford?
Parking in my driveway, I opened my door and reached for the towhee. But he would have none of that. The towhee had returned to his senses. He started flying around the inside of my car, finally landing in my lap. Then hopped to the floorboard between my legs and swish, he was out my open door.
Now. I am looking out for a one-footed male towhee. I hope he likes his new home.
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