I was making pancakes, Michael was tidying up, and the boys were organizing toys, when Owen announced how sad it was that a bright red bird had flown into the window and fallen down into the garden. You could see his flaming red feathers as he laid there, looking all but dead.
Michael gently picked him up and brought him inside. We all stared in awe at this bold little songbird—a Scarlet Tanager. He'd flown here from South America, we learned. And his chip-churr song, which we also tracked down, is a lilting and a true sign of spring, Owen thought. We made him a little nest so he could rest. He closed his eyes often, a sign that he was tired, Caleb thought. We all thought he might have hurt a wing, or banged his head, before he fell.
But before long, he flapped out of his box and around the kitchen before perching himself on a stack of cereal bowls. He was restored. And we set him free.