The little jaybird hopped once and fluttered out of my hands. I stood up to watch it fly away and grinned when it chirped back at me over its shoulder. I had rescued the half-frozen little thing from the snow yesterday, and fed it and kept it warm until it got restless and flew itself into the kitchen window. Once the bird was out of sight, I stumped back inside and made myself a cup of hot chocolate. Mom was at work, and I was "sort of" sick, so I got to stay home from school. Tomorrow would be Winter Break, so I basically had had an extra two days off school. I sighed blissfully and stretched. Then there was a knock at the door. I opened it and grinned when I saw my friend Elizabeth.
"Hi!" I smiled cheekily and stepped outside again. "Here to visit the invalid?"
She laughed. "You look plenty healthy!" she took my arm and sashayed down the path. " I'm here to accompany you to the park, where we will both sit around and enjoy this beautiful, colorless and featureless scenery."
I nudged her. "It IS really beautiful, you know." And it was.
We both wandered aimlessly around the snow-blurred park, absorbing the quiet and appearance of solitude. Then, I spotted a bright blob of blue, lurid against the purity of the snow. I walked over to it, idly curious, and then jerked in shock. It was a tiny blue jay! Leaning down, I gently scooped it up and pulled off my glove. Its steady heartbeat thudded against my index finger, the blue-gray feathers soft as a cloud to the touch. At the warmth of my hands, the bird revived and struggled a bit, fluttering weakly against my carefully cupped hands. A moment later, Elizabeth appeared at my side and gasped in shock.
"Oh, the poor thing! It looks half frozen." Exhausted, the tiny creature flopped back against my bare palm, it's heart now pounding like a drum.
Carefully, I turned around and began to march determinedly back toward my house, careful not to jar the bird too much. Elizabeth ran ahead and opened the front door for me. I marched straight inside, not bothering to pull off my heavy snow boots. Gently, I put the bird down in front of the heater vent on the wall, which was now running, then bolted off to find a towel and the tiny soap bowl in the bathroom. Washing all the traces off of the bowl, I rushed over to find Elizabeth crouching next to the jay, a pitying look on her face. I lightly began to towel the bird off, both of us smiling as we heard it's characteristically raspy chirps.
Elizabeth broke the comfortable silence. "Do you have any birdseed?" I looked up at her.
"Yes. It's in the little box under the kitchen sink. Can you also get the little bowl that's sitting on the bathroom counter?"
She grinned. "Sure. You are very welcome," she added before I could say anything.
I laughed. "Thanks!" the bird struggled out of my hands just then and fluttered to the carpet, where it looked up at me inquisitively. "Getting feisty, aren't you?" Elizabeth laughed and walked off into the kitchen. Apparently, the bird was either very bold or very silly, because it fearlessly hopped over to the heater and plopped down in front of it, fluffing out its feathers until it looked like a grey-blue ball of fuzz. I laughed as well, settling down to watch it sleep.
Elizabeth tiptoed in to sit next to me. "Here you go," she whispered, setting down the little bowl, full of birdseed. We sat there, watching the bird's chest feathers move in and out. After a while, she stirred. It was dark outside. "Ï have to go."
I looked gratefully at her. "Thanks for your help." we were still whispering. She smiled and slipped silently out the front door, closing it gently. I yawned, suddenly tired, and walked off to bed. Hopefully, the bird would stay in one place.
*
The next morning, I got up to see an empty bowl and the bird nowhere in sight. I felt a sudden surge of panic, which faded when I heard a cheery chirp coming from above my head. I looked up and laughed loudly. The jay was swinging from the chandelier above my head! It twittered and swooped down from the candle-support into the kitchen, where I watched in horror as it promptly flew itself into the window. I raced over and picked it up. "You are going outside, this minute!" I told it firmly. "Guessing from your restlessness, you are a reluctant guest." I walked outside and down to the park, setting it down in the spot where I had first found it. The little jaybird hopped once and fluttered out of my hands. I stood up to watch it fly away and grinned when it chirped back at me over its shoulder.