Sparrow.

It was as I was pulling into the driveway that I spotted it. I thought it was a mouse at first. A tiny creature frantically trying to insert its tiny body under the garage door, whether for shelter or escape I don’t know. I shut the car door and walked over slowly. The creature increased its frantic scrabbling then, realising it wasn’t going to get anywhere with the garage door, found a narrow strip of shelter under the garden gate. Not the best idea, considering the garden is the cat’s domain.

I peered under cautiously, trying not to make any sudden movements, lest I scare it further. It was a sparrow, a baby. Still with its fluffy down and yellow beak, it looked too young to have fledged yet, but it was pretty far from any nesting place. I guessed the cat must have brought it over. Away from the glare of the sun, it looked shaken but no longer in obvious distress. It clearly wasn’t safe here though. I didn’t think much of its chances of survival, not while it couldn’t fly. Perhaps the kindest thing would be to give it the mercy of a quick death, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Still, I could take it somewhere safer, to live out whatever time it had left in relative peace.

I backed away so as not to frighten it, and went around the other side of the house. Indoors I rummaged around and found a small cardboard box left over from a recent delivery. Back outside, I gently coaxed the small bird into the safety of the box. It seemed all too happy to have a cosy space in which to hide, and I carefully turned the box upright, closing the lid. Once inside, the sparrow immediately stopped struggling and seemed calm.

Outside our house there are plenty of trees and hedgerows with sheltered, hidden spaces where an vulnerable creature might hunker down. I looked around for a good spot, somewhere where there might be a nest nearby, and where it might have a chance of being passed over by the neighbourhood cats. When I finally found a shady nook, nestled among dense foliage, I opened the box, put it down on the ground and tipped it slowly onto its side. The little creature quickly scampered away into the undergrowth. I don’t know if I did the right thing for it. Maybe I should’ve taken it to an animal shelter where it could be helped to recuperate, or maybe it was already too late. But maybe there’s a chance it was reunited with its parents and they could continue to nurture it until it learned to fly. I hope so.