My Friend the Bird

It was a beautiful spring day and so I decided to walk home from school. I shouldered my backpack, put both arms through the straps, and set off for home. I made my way out of downtown, noticing the crocuses and daffodils pushing out of the ground.

I could hear the birds singing, glorying in the sunshine. I could see tiny leaves budding out from the street trees. Suddenly, I heard a baby bird's distress call. I looked around to see if I could see it since it sounded quite close. It peeped again, in the bushes behind me.

I turned and looked carefully, but I couldn't see it. I heard it again, now coming from the yard of the house I was in front of. I turned again, but there was no baby bird on the front lawn. Once again it peeped behind me, now seemingly in the street.

Suddenly, I figured out what was going on. I stopped turning and swivled my head as far to the side as it could turn. There, perched in my hair on top of my backpack, a baby bird was sitting. He must have been stuck in one of the extension trees, too afraid to fly all the way down to the ground on his own power. When I walked underneath it, he jumped to my backpack since it wasn't so far down.

I slowly knelt down and began to take off my backpack. Finding himself suddenly much closer to the ground, he flew off to find his mother.

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Last modified: March, 1997