Look! In the Sky! It’s Superman! No, It’s a Plane! No, It’s a... Bird. Thunk.

For many, many reasons yesterday was an odd day and to emphasize that point, God seemed to send a signal at the end of the day that I shan't soon forget!

I'm standing outside with a friend of mine talking when all of the sudden, out of nowhere, this thing plops to the ground. I look at it and see the feathers to what looks to be a wing move slightly. Peering across the driveway, I note that it is, in fact, a bird. Looking up, I can still see the wires swaying back and forth and my heart gives a little tug for this bird that apparently just lost his life in a freak accident.

As we stood there however, it became apparent that the bird was still breathing, so... and this sounds so much worse than it really was... my friend picks up a big stick and starts poking at it. No movement. He uses the stick to roll it over and for another minute there is no movement. I, meanwhile, am calculating what it would be like to have a sick bird in my car, estimating time to get to the vet, thinking about bird flu, and trying to calculate how much I could spend to cure a bird I do not know. One more poke with the stick and all the sudden the little bird hops up to his feet...

And just stands there.

And stands there.

And stands there.

"He must have shocked himself stupid." I say sadly. "He's not moving at all."

Poke with the stick. "Nope. Maybe he fried his little bird brain."

"That's sad. I'd pick him up, but he'd probably bite me."

"Hmmm..."

My friend walks closer and attempts to poke him with the stick again. No movement. Not even a head twitch. So we start speculating again what may have befell this little bird.

"He must have crashed into the wire and just fallen."

"Yeah, he must have hit it hard. He landed on his head."

"He must have shocked himself stupid." This comment once again brought on speculation about whether birds could actually electrocute himself, a closer examination, speculation about whether he was just learning to fly, and whether he still had his baby feathers.

Another poke with the stick. This time in the butt. (Again, just sounds SO much worse than it really was...) Again, no movement, but by now this poor little bird is breathing so hard he's on the verge of giving himself a heart attack.

My friend puts down the stick and picks up a few rocks, throwing them at the bird trying to get him to move. A foot! A head cock! Anything!

Nothing.

By this time, I am feeling sorry for this poor tortured bird. I take a few steps, thinking that I am going to attempt to pick him up and see how he's doing-- bird flu be damned! I take three steps toward the bird, and...

hop, hop, hop, hop, hop

He hops away from me!

And then just stands there. Not moving. No head bounce, no looking around, no wing movement, no head turning to see who these crazy people are that keep trying to torture him.

My friend then takes a wheelbarrow full of water and tries dumping it on the bird. Nothing.

Again, a few more rocks. Nothing.

So once again, I start walking toward it. You know what happens?!

The thing flies away!

LOL... So in conclusion, I have decided that... I am no Snow White. But apparently my friend is. Remarkable since... he's a man.