Hi, Mr. Nature here.
A couple of hours ago, my wife found a sparrow sitting on the sidewalk, not moving–sick or injured, we reckoned. A foot away we found another one, dead. I thought this might have been the result of a bird-fight: I’ve seen sparrows in action, and they are pugnacious little fellows.
All we could think to do was for me to put on some latex gloves, because wild birds can carry all kinds of germs, gently pick up the bird and put him down where no one would step on him and where the hawk wouldn’t easily see him. On the ground, this bird was just about invisible.
Just now, I went outside to check. The sparrow saw me, got up, hopped around a little–and flew away. That made us quite happy.
They’re little and cute, but I think they sure do love a fight. I’ve seen them gang up on the hawk to chase him away. Seen ’em gang up on each other, too. Oh, well. Not a sparrow falls without the Father. I presume God likes them. Probably a lot.