silly bird

there was a small bird on the front porch as i left for work this morning. it didn’t fly away when i lumbered out the door, dropped my bag or reached to pick it up. the poor wee thing weakly tried to get away when i had it enclosed in my hands, but as soon as i let him sit on my palm, he just tucked his beak into his feathers, puffed up and stayed very still. i extended each of his wings and lifted up his tail feathers to try to see if he was injured. he wasn’t bleeding and everything seemed to be in working order, but he wasn’t going anywhere.
trying to think of what i could do for him, i put him back down and went inside to find something to keep him warm and safe until he recovered from his trauma. i looked around my kitchen and seized upon an empty pizza pops box. i was in the middle of cutting out an opening when i remembered something. i rummaged through the waste basket in the other room for the kleenex box i had discarded a few days earlier. taking it back into the kitchen, i lined it with crumpled paper towels (to keep him warm). thinking of what else he’d need to recover his strength, i thought of what i could give him for food. i don’t have birdseed or anything remotely birdseed-like, so i opened up the bottom of my toaster and put a small amount of crumbs in the box. hopefully he likes oats and wheat.
going back outside, he wasn’t where i’d left him and i had a moment of panic-slash-elation. panic, that he’d gone somewhere to die. elation, that he’d shook off whatever was ailing him and he’d gone home safely. it only lasted a moment. he’d hopped himself face-first into a corner, a heart-wrenching sight. i put down my makeshift bird condo, picked him up gently and placed him inside, then i slid the box into the corner, hoping that no neighbour would inadvertently (or deliberately) damage him or his small abode.
i felt so very guilty to just leave him there like that and go to work. i should have taken him to someone who knows what to do with birds. i should have been late to work and taken care of him. my poor excuse is that it was only seven o’clock, no one would be open to receive him and even if they were, i wouldn’t know where to go. i’m going to find out, though.
if, by a miracle, he’s still there and alive, i’m going to take him to a wildlife rescue facility and put him into the care of trained handlers. if, by a tragedy, he’s there but has passed on to avian heaven, i shall give him a proper burial in my landlady’s rose garden.
i really hope he’s okay. i think i’ll call him emmitt.