He looked a little under the weather with his eyes closed and head cocked to one side. Brian scooped him up into our makeshift birdie triage -- Stone IPA box with bread, water, and a package of pot feet to weigh it down. Shortly after, he perked up and fluttered up to the top of the box, then to the wisteria pot where he took another little nap in the sun.
Suspecting he was still a young bird, Brian said, "He can't fly." On cue, our little friend flew off into the trees. Perhaps he also had a little chick in his nest who was crying all night and just needed to catch up on some zzz's before going about with his day. I totally understand, little bird.