Chickee’s dizzy experience
Dick MacKenzie - www.dickshideaway.com
Chickee crashed our afternoon party, bouncing off the living room window, enroute to his famous feast of seeds piled on the fish cleaning table on the deck.
I heard a soft thump and watched the immediate dive to the porch, slipped boots on quick as a relay racer passing the torch, and rushed outside.
By the time I got to him, ten seconds after splash down, Chickee was upside down in the snow on the ground, still as a stick. His beak was wide open, and tiny feet grasped a twig tight as a mouse trap.
Chickee rode in my bare hand to a chair inside the cabin. He didn't struggle at all, but heart was beating like a pile driver. I was afraid I'd scare the little guy to death, so after a couple minutes I grabbed one of my gloves and placed the quiet fluff of feathers on it on a table outside in the late afternoon sun and watched through the window from inside.
For 35 minutes Chickee sat upright, turning his head back and forth periodically, but otherwise remained immobile.
As dusk came on, and most of the feeding birds retreated to the pines for their overnight homes, Chickee spread tail feathers, changed position a little bit, looked around with bobbing head, sneezed, then launched into wobbly flight to the nearest tree twig ten feet away. The landing would have made a rookie pilot cringe, but the bird hung on, righted itself, and spent two minutes practicing jumps from one branch to another.
As the sun set in the west, Chickee leaped to the east, and flew into the woods. He looked like he knew what he was doing.
I had firewood to bring in, so smiled a happy goodbye to Chickee, retrieved my glove, and felt thankful I hadn't had to swipe a backhand wipe across my face. I would have smeared Chickee's thank you all over my lips.