Blue Bird

When I first moved into my house on Judy Branch, I found a dead blue bird in my wood stove. Who knows how long its little body had been there. Even more disturbing is to think of how long it was trapped inside that ash-filled box before it finally died.

Yesterday, I prevented that fate from falling upon another bird. I woke to hear rustling from the living room and soon discerned the sound was coming from the stove. I was relieved to find that the bird was trapped in the actual stove and not the pipe. Her chances of survivial were much better this way, and I wouldn't have to worry about if it was worth burning out a birds nest to keep warm at night! Cat Rosie was standing on her back legs with her nose and front paws squished up to the glass window. The bird, understandably, looked like it had lost all hope of surviving this. I mean, even if it did manage to miraculously get out through that window, there was a big nasty cat ready to make bird meat out of her! What a horrible morning she must have been having.

I grabbed a dish cloth, shooed the cat away from the stove door, and gently scooped the little bird out and held her close to my breast. She didn't move. Outside I was greeted by an unseasonably warm, sunny morning. I gently placed my dishcloth swaddle on the potting table and unwrapped the little bird. What the gloom and the ashes inside the stove had prevented me from seeing was a brilliant blue breast and honey maple tipped wings. She uprighted herself, rustled her feathers and immediately flew off beyond sight.