If It's Not One Thing...

This has been a tough week, one for the birds. No, literally. I have managed to hit not one, not two but three birds with my car this week.

One I just clipped. A finch that flew into the side of my rearview mirror when I started to go at a stop sign. The second was a big ol' pigeon that glanced off my windshield with a dramatic thump, but flew off on his own. The third one was the problem.

I heard a pretty sickening thud as I hit the dove, but I didn't kill it. It just got caught between my grill and the radiator but otherwise not complaining. So I got someone to extract it, got a box, and took it home. The bird spent the next few days on my front porch (the box weighted so that a raccoon wouldn't get it), and munching on bread and water. It couldn't really fly, but one morning it kind of fluttered out of the box and into the bushes (I know, I lost the proverbial bird in hand). It turned around, looked back at me, and waved goodbye so I figured I'd go on and let it go. Of course it didn't really wave, but that's how I'd like to think of it.

The only bright side I can find to all of this avian excitement is that my cat, Hush, thinks that I'm a whole lot more interesting and useful now that I've started bringing home birds.