Hearing the call to freedom
We were having a morning coffee in our living room when a Great Tit flew in through the open window. It was a young bird, rather unskilled in aerial navigation. In its panic to escape the terrifying humans, it eventually found a safe perch on a curtain rail. We didn’t want to alarm it further, so making sure all the windows were wide open, we moved out to the garden. We hoped it would find its way out. Some time later I crept back in. The bird seemed to have gone. It hadn’t. It had moved to another curtain pole. My entry caused frantic flying. It flew hard against the unopenable part of a window and fell to the floor stunned. Was it dead? Eventually the young Great Tit rose to its feet, but stayed there, occasionally lifting a wing. Was it injured? Could it still fly? Yes, it could. When I moved the sofa to give it more space, it flew up to the windowsill, where it remained motionless. I went outside to continue to watch it. Was it scared to move? Was it waiting, as young b...