Saving the Helpless

Miguel took Angie for a walk around the block while I got dressed for work. As I snatched my keys from the peg and left the house, I spotted them walking towards me from across the street.

"Do you have a heart?" Miguel was asking, an odd look in his eye.

"Of course," I responded, puzzled by the question.

"Come here," he said, and led me across the street. There, sitting on the side of the road not quite out of harm's way, lay a mourning dove, watchful, but not moving.

"Oh," I cried, "He's hurt!"

"Can you pick him up and move him?" Miguel asked. I bent down to enclose the bird in my hands and carry him to the relative safety of our yard. His wings fluttered, then flapped and he took off.

"I guess he just needed a little motivation," Miguel said as we watched him fly upward to roost in the branches of the oak tree that graces our front yard. But he didn't roost. Suddenly there was a great flapping and the poor bird began a quick downward descent, more falling than flying.

"Oh, " I cried again. "It must be his leg. He can't land on it." But now, he was in our yard and not in danger of being run over, so I hopped in my car and went to work. When I got home, Miguel was standing at the end of the driveway, talking with our neighbor Pete. As I got out of the car, they had moved down the street towards our other neighbor's house, staring at the ground. Miguel called me over and I saw the bird as I approached.

"We should put him in a box for the night," Miguel said. "We can't leave him out here for the owls." So Miguel went to get a box and a towel. This time, when I used the towel to pick the bird up, there were no fluttering protestations. Tucked safely in the box, we carried him to our enclosed back porch to spend the night. I remembered to put some bread in, but forgot the water until this morning. He's still sitting there without moving, just blinking occasionally and, of course, pooping.

I don't know what to do for the bird. Miguel called animal control which says they don't do anything for birds. I guess we'll keep him in the box until he feels like flying away or . . . well, we'll just wait and see.