Yesterday began as one of those typical cold mornings, the kind where you drag yourself out of bed and into the warmth of your car. The heater was my savior, blasting a comforting jet of warm air as I navigated the familiar route to the office. I chose to park at the edge of a vast, serene park, enjoying the free parking and the added bonus of a ten-minute walk through nature’s embrace.
As I strolled through the park, headphones on, lost in the soothing rhythms of my favorite playlist, I stumbled upon something unusual. Lying amidst the dried leaves, nearly camouflaged, was a bird, about the size of a rabbit. My heart skipped a beat as I approached, hoping it was alive. I tried to shoo it away gently, but it remained still.
Hesitantly, I bent down and picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly. I checked for any signs of injury, carefully inspecting its sides and bottom. To my relief, it seemed unharmed and even blinked its big, beautiful eyes at me three times. It resembled a kookaburra, and I quickly turned to my phone for answers, googling wildlife protection services nearby.
The man on the other end of the call confirmed my fears with a simple yet alarming statement: “If you were able to pick the bird up, it means it’s not fine.” He assured me that a volunteer would be on their way shortly and advised me to head to the office. But I couldn’t leave the bird vulnerable to stray animals, so I decided to wait.
I called a colleague and requested an empty box and a piece of cloth from the office. Together, we gently placed the owl in the box, creating a makeshift sanctuary. Within twenty minutes, a volunteer arrived, took the bird, and handed me a reference number along with a WhatsApp contact for updates.
We walked to the office with hopeful hearts, eager to share the morning’s extraordinary event. Our colleagues were enthralled by the story, their prayers joining ours for the bird’s recovery. Amidst our meetings, my phone rang – it was the veterinarian. Her words were heavy with sorrow: the bird, identified as a Tawny Frogmouth, had severe internal bleeding and multiple organ failures. It had to be put down.
The news was a blow to all of us. The office, which had buzzed with hope, now hummed with disappointment. To honor the little creature, we printed out beautiful images of a Tawny Frogmouth in its full glory. Though the day ended in sadness, the memory of our collective compassion and the brief connection with the beautiful bird will be etched in our minds forever.
tarun1195 
Sad and yet beautiful encounter.
LikeLiked by 1 person