Wham! It was louder than the alarm clock which hadn’t yet rung. In the gloom of dawn I stepped towards the window, afraid of seeing exactly what I saw –
Wham! It was louder than the alarm clock which hadn’t yet rung. In the gloom of dawn I stepped towards the window, afraid of seeing exactly what I saw – a tiny bird on the porch roof, flat on its back and to all appearances dead except for one spasmodically twitching foot.
When a bird slams into a window- your window- it’s hard not to feel like a murderer, or at least an accessory. All those idle moments that could have been spent hanging shiny gewgaws in the center of every large pane of glass come back in a flash of self-reproach.
Bird experts say that the impact of hitting a window at top speed often doesn’t actually kill a bird, only stuns it. Sometimes the bird can unscramble its brains if it has a safe place to recover for awhile. This bird had been stopped from tumbling completely to the ground by some 2 x 4’s on the roof, so at least it was protected from the opportunistic predator that might pass by.
Within thirty minutes, the bird was upright again, although its eyes were still shut and somewhat sunken. When I came back again later it was gone, and there were no stray feathers or any other signs of foul play on the roof or the ground.
I like to think this bird made it, but I wonder how long the headache lasted.