I have always had an affinity for creatures. Fuzzy creatures, feathered creatures, scaley creatures. When I was a child, I adored any book that had an animal slant. I used to read Charlotte's Web, and hope that one day I too would have a pig. Is it no wonder I ended up on a farm?
Even in the city I was never without a pet of sometime. A parrot, a cat, a dog...and for a short while a neighbourhood racoon that needed overnight shelter.
Down at the barns today, I found a fallen swallow. I am guessing that his mother was watching from not far away. I gently picked him up, and placed him to the side of the path where he wouldn't get trompled on. It's always best to leave baby birds alone, but I didn't want to step on the poor wee bird as I went about my barn chores.
When I came back several hours later, he was gone. It's possible one of the barn cats got him, but I like to think that he is the same swallow who greeted me in the barn several weeks later. Grateful perhaps for the chance I gave him to survive.
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