I live in the wilderness and despite putting stickers on the windows birds will smack into the window and fall hard onto the snow.  Wings sprawled, twisted and helpless.  In winter I rush out and collect them to keep them warm as the freezing temperature will kill them faster than their injuries. I have discovered that most will recover with a massive headache to join the flock later.

Cradled in my palm I feel the bird’s tiny heart beating madly. I wonder at the bird’s fear of being clutched by a giant.  Is this the end? Will I be eaten? Will my feathers be stuck in the corners of that massive mouth?  And then the heart beat slows and I know that the bird feels safe and sometimes even reluctant to leave me.

I wonder sometimes what Mom felt when she was confused and scared.  And when we asked more questions she could not answer perhaps all she needed was a hug and to be cradled in my arms.

Mom liked being touched so I specifically hired a team that would hug and massage Mom.  I always felt that even though she did not know my name or how I was connected to her she knew threw my touch that I was someone special.