When I was a child we found a baby blue jay that had been injured while attempting flight. We brought him to our mother who told us that if we touch a wild animal the parents won’t take it back, because our scent would be on the baby. So once we had picked him up- we owned him. She nursed him until he was strong enough and then gave him flying lessons. I have memories of her standing on the hill, extending her hands as the bird swooshed up into the air flapping its little wings. He was not a fast learner; Mom spent some time getting him air born.

Yesterday a band of blue jays were frantically squawking outside. Upon further investigation I saw a baby bird in my neighbors’ driveway awkwardly hopping about in the mid day sun. I brought the cat and the dog inside and hoped that nature would intervene.

5:30am this morning the squawking continued and I had to rescue the cat from the dive bombing brigade of blue feather fury. The baby blue jay was sitting on my front lawn. My first instinct was to scoop him up and plant him as high as I could in the dogwood tree, hoping he might take flight. But that small voice in my head stopped me and said, pray. So I prayed to the Angels, “Please help this little one find flight and his way back to his frantic parents.” I left his fate in the Angels’ hands….or should I say wings….