Or so they say…
God Never Gives You More Than You Can Handle
Barn swallow rescue and triage wasn’t on my calendar.
Meaning today the To-Do lists, zoom calls, and chores would be deleted or simply ignored.
The cosmos had other designs.
What should have been a routine morning dog walk would be cut short by Clementine, my ever-curious and hyper-vigilant 5 lb. brindle chihuahua and member of our two mutt family.
Had it not been for her keen nose and natural instinct for sensing distress from all creatures great and small, today’s stroll would likely have been largely uneventful.
Instead, Clem planted her oversized paws between the sidewalk and gutter—her black eyes fixed on a trough of dead leaves and neighborhood debris.
Oscar’s urge to keep us moving—thus leaving him free to canvas yards and streets for the latest pee-mail or scented trails left by families of raccoons and lone coyotes roaming our hood at night—epic FAILURE.
Clem bird-dogged a bird and it was a barn swallow in distress.
And sure enough, nestled in the mess and camouflaged by gutter clutter, the barn swallow randomly fluttered, his delicate and wounded-winged life relying solely on his new family of mutts—with Me, Head Mutt, the Boss in charge of our odd little household.
In spite of Mother Nature habitually sending birds of all feathers into my world on the regular, I am not and never have been a birder.
On the other hand, I’ve caught and released two hummingbirds, and one dove—all separate incidents–after discovering them fluttering inside my home.
There were other bird incidents at each of my stores, one of them a butter yellow budgie—and all of them—catch and release.
Most recently, pre-Bob [his adopted name], I’d kept a dead bird in my freezer.