Prodigal?

This morning as I opened the blinds I saw a young bird (a birdling?) perched on the edge of my birdbath. It looked around furtively then, apparently assured that no one was watching, jumped into the water for a quick bath and flew out again as quickly. Then it caught sight of me watching through the slats and flew toward me, grasping the screen in its feet and clinging there—not very far from my face; I was glad for the window in between! What did it want? Was it trying to get in? The little wren looked frightened. I worried about it. Was it sick or injured? I didn’t know, but I prayed and was reminded that Jesus said that not even a sparrow falls to the ground without his Father knowing it. And you know, other than being hunted by cats or crashing into reflective skyscrapers, I’ve rarely seen a dead bird along my way. The Lord assured me that he takes care of little Carolina Wrens too. The bird was still clinging to the screen when I came back for the camera—a seemingly long time for the odd angle. After a bit, it flew under the eaves and hunched against the wall. That seemed like progress but it still looked like a fugitive. I finally went about my other business, being concerned that if I opened the door to go out to the garden, the bird would change places with me. The next time I looked, it hopped from plant to plant, hopefully eating unwelcome bugs—definitely a good sign! A little later, I heard a chiding sound much like that of a squirrel reprimanding a cat; it was a mother wren. She hopped about with her strained cry, looking all around for her runaway. Don’t ask me mama wren; I have no idea where your baby has gone so don’t fuss at me.