Every autumn, I eagerly await the return of the dark-eyed juncos. While I'm not entirely thrilled that these birds foretell winter, I can't help but adore their perky behavior, sleek plumage, and energetic personalities - they are the perfect birds to brighten any winter day. This year, however, the very first junco I saw was absolutely the last way I wanted to see one.
I was backing out of the garage, and I routinely stop in the driveway to ensure the door lowers and fasten my seatbelt. While doing so, I glanced up at the roof, and saw a bird sitting all too still and in too unusual a posture to be a positive sign - it must have hit one of the vaulted windows at the roof's peak, windows that I alternately love for their uniqueness and brightness, but hate for instances such as this.
Unwilling to leave the bird languishing on the roof - though by the stillness I assumed it was too late for any help - I stopped the truck and stepped out onto the running board for a better view. I realized the bird hadn't been killed by the impact; I could see slight motion that indicated breathing, though the bird was bowed and its bill was resting on the roof. Despite having an appointment to keep, I didn't hesitate to turn off the truck, reopen the garage, and wrestle with the ladder to reach that part of the roof. I had a bird rescue kit standing by, and quickly I was just a few feet away, examining the first dark-eyed junco I'd seen in months.
The bird was indeed breathing, and its left eye was open (I couldn't see the right side). While its bill was resting on the shingles, there was no apparent discharge or visible injury other than a single mussed feather. The wings were not drooping, and the bird seemed aware of my presence, though unwilling to move much. That changed in an instant, however, as I reached out to gently cup the bird (while balanced on the ladder, mind you), and it protested - vigorously - with chirping and fluttering. I released it, and it flew further up the roof, lightly bonking on the window again before resting on another section of the roof. As this new perch gave me a view of its other side, I finished climbing the ladder so I could examine the bird further. There were still no signs of obvious injuries, and the fact that it could fly, however unsteadily, was an excellent sign.
I stayed on the roof with the bird for several minutes, speaking to it gently and noting its breathing and posture. After a few minutes, the bird was more alert, and finally fluttered up to a branch where it was better concealed than on the roof - our neighborhood does have resident hawks, and I was worried that a stunned junco would be an easy breakfast. I watched for another minute or two to be sure it was able to balance and cling well, then made my way down the ladder and only slightly late to my appointment. When I got home a couple of hours later, the bird had vanished, but within hours it - or another junco - appeared at the feeders, fit and healthy.
Windows can be fatal to birds, and I take all the steps I can to keep mine safe. No system is perfect, and we must always be ready when an accident happens. In this case, the ending was a happy one - may it be so for others.