77. bird, injured

Here's the latest avian news from Missoula:

The other day I walked out my door and there was a robin standing right by my stoop looking up at me. Scared the crap out of me - psycho menacing bird - but he hadn't moved an inch and I realized he was injured. I sat down on the steps and he just looked at me. I told him I couldn't help him but didn't want to hurt him, and then I got sad - adults, stupid, always finding metaphors in things. Blame all those German literature classes I took in college. I can't help an injured bird, I can't help an alcoholic.

An hour or two later the robin was on the other side of the yard, right wing slightly askew, hopping on one foot, eating things from the lawn - a good sign, right? I couldn't help him but I put out a little bowl of water. I don't know what injured robins or alcoholics need but I put out a bowl of water because it was a hot day and I don't know, robins need water like everyone else.

That night I dreamed of feathers on the ground, the scene of a cat-bird encounter, but in real life there's no feathery scene of death in the yard, and there's also no bird, alive or dead. I haven't decided yet what kind of stupid metaphorical reading I'll make up for that.

Tomorrow will be three seconds longer than today. The solstice occurs tomorrow at 5:09 p.m. and then we'll begin the long terrible descent back into winter. I am sorry to have to tell you that but as Missoula's foremost astronomical blogger it is my duty.