The visitor . . .

Chap’s son Bone Head came out to work for a while then the two will go fishing, and while

Painted bunting healing in a Ferragamo shoe box--if Ferragamo can't cheer you up, I don't know what could . . .

they were getting their gear ready, we heard a loud bang!

A bird hit one of the dormer windows so hard that he left a perfect bird print on the window. I asked Chap to go outside and see if it was still alive, and he came back in with a teeny tiny, beautiful painted bunting. The little bird still had a heartbeat, but his little eyes were shut and he was panting, obviously hurt and in shock.

I put a soft towel in a box, checked the bird’s beak to make sure it wasn’t broken or cracked and let him rest awhile. Chap of course, wanted to feed him, offering him seeds and worms, and I told him the best thing to do for him right now was to give him a little sugar water and let him rest. I sucked a little hummingbird nectar into an eye dropper, and squeezed a couple of drops into his mouth, which he swallowed, and I swear, if birds had lips, this little guy would have been smacking them.

The hummingbird food seemed to be just the pick me up he needed, and he’s currently in the box, tucked safely away from Ninja Kitty, and when he’s up and trying to fly, I’ll take him down to the island and set his box in a tree.

But for now, we’re just enjoying the sheer beauty of this small, little life . . .



About kitfrazier

Award-winning novelist and former big city journalist who bumped into a cowboy and woke up in the wild, wild west.
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