Yesterday was a long and lovely day. We had a church barbecue, complete with games but lacking what is essential--the church. Most of the people who showed up weren´t actually members of the church. Regardless of the situation, we all enjoyed ourselves. We went swimming, discovered leeches in the water, grilled steak and sausages and ate sour cream and onion chips and potato salad and strawberries with whipped cream for dessert. When the day was wearing towards its end and all our guests had left, Mom and I drove the game equipment and one portable barbecue back to their respective owners. On our way there, we came across a bird that sat still in the road, so still in fact that it wouldn´t move and I literally ran over it, meaning I drove over it and it came out the other side completely unhurt.
"It´s a baby bird!"
I pulled the car over to the road shoulder and got out and ran back to where I had seen it. It squeaked and fled away down the empty street, flapping its fledgling wings. Neither its mother nor its nest was anywhere to be seen. I brought the bird with me back home and fed it worms dug up in the mosquito-infested night. (I have the red welts to prove it.)
I named it Cool Hand Luke (for his many attempts to escape) and he now lives in our bathtub.