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by guest blogger Jeanie Ressel

OK maybe it wasn’t a sparrow, but I needed it for alliteration. On an impromptu weekend in the country, I took my morning coffee outside to take in the farm from the breezy grass. I tried to read but found myself deliciously distracted several times per paragraph. Insects were gearing up for a day of, well, whatever it is that insects do. Ditching frogs? Buzzing contests? Sprout was perched on the picnic table with a beautiful spruce in the background and the horse was out of the barn. A barking dog echoed from a neighboring farm. Was that a frog rallying for a chorus? No. Too early for frogs. Something coo-calling from over there. Not sure what it was.

I headed over to the bunkhouse to get ready to help Judi paint. On my way I found a robust baby bird on the ground some 20 feet under a nest. Judi told me that the momma bird would feed it, but the flies were on it and I felt helpless while its destiny loomed. Several birds in the next tree, across from the nest, were going on and on about what to do.

Judi wheelbarrowed past me with a heap full of manure and it was barely 9 o’clock. Time to get to work before the heat sets in. After a stroll around the vegetable garden I decided to check on the failing bird. The flies were gone and the yellow jackets had taken over. I could still see the gentle rise and fall of the little bird’s breath and the infinite energy in the smallest of nature’s creatures. Deep breath and on to rest of the day.


  • Jackie Mead says:

    What happened to the baby bird?

    • Judi says:

      Oh, Jackie, I don’t really know. It was still there when we left. So many birds fell from nests this year. I saved one from Mack’s stall. Luckily, the nest was an easy reach with a ladder. I made the effort to tuck that one back in. Mack has big feet that are all over the place. He actually pulled one of my toenails out once!