The dove with the broken wing rested all afternoon quietly in her nest.
I checked her several times.
But in the early evening when I went out to check, I think she had gotten nervous about her situation. She didn't know she was as safe as she could possibly be under the circumstances.
She began to try to get out of the cage.
Vigorously.
She was throwing herself against the wire mesh and flailing her one good wing about in a terribly alarming way. Now it became clear that if I left her there, her injuries were going to get worse.
I took her out, gave her more water and walked her down to a brush thicket near the walnut tree and placed her as deep into it as I could reach.
I haven't seen her since then.
I don't know what happened.
I only know what I tried to do.
Let's make up our own ending shall we?
(For once, I agree with your delusion. I know I'm not supposed to. It goes against everything I believe in. But in this case, I think it is best.)
Everyone is now invited to compose a happy ending to this story.
Don't let this opportunity pass you by.
We actually have the august blessings of ().
An incredibly rare event that we should not squander.
