My family puts a lot of miles into the logbooks each week: Running here, running there, school, work, errands, family, church, the list goes on. To be clear, this isn’t a complaint, gripe or pity-seeking effort. Rather, I can empathize with a lot of travel. 

It was on our way out to another errand this week when something caused us to stop and check on a weary traveler who happened to cross our path. We were bustling out the door, juggling hats and snacks and loading the car to go to town. The boys finally succumbed to being strapped into their seats, and my wife was ready and waiting in the passenger seat. I just had to grab my sunglasses from my truck and we could leave. 

As I stepped past her car towards my truck, my peripheral vision caught a slight movement in the gravel just ahead. I slowed and looked closer before the momentary opportunity fleeted away. To my surprise, there was a small brownish songbird sitting right there on the ground in my driveway. It looked like its eyes were closed, and it was practically resting its head on its chest. 

Without really thinking about it, I stepped up smoothly and reached down behind its back, and quickly and loosely grasped the small bird, my hand creating a cage. I held it just firmly enough to prevent it from hurting itself or getting away. 

It seemed that it was sleeping when I caught it off guard, but now that I held it, it was thoroughly awake. I did feel bad for disturbing it, but I would have anyway if I had left it alone when I walked past. At least this way I could make sure it was OK before I let it free again. 

I’ve always enjoyed looking at birds, especially those with unique traits. If you don’t believe me, you should know my wife’s family nickname is “Birdy.” In any case, my mom has always been somewhere between an amateur and professional ornithologist, and despite my own curiosity, I had almost an obligation to provide her with something to test her skills.

Walking back to the car, the kids were suddenly out of their seats and hopping up and down in front of me, aware that I had just caught something of interest. Chelsea helped me take some pictures so that we could definitely identify the bird later. I gently cupped the bird as I spread its wing and tail, looking at the delicate red teardrop feathers on the back of the wing and the yellow-tipped tail. 

I looked it over for any sign of injury or why it would have been so lethargic before setting it upright in my hand and allowing it to flit away to a nearby bush. It must’ve still been tired because it didn’t go far, and even once in the bush, it allowed us to approach closely enough to take some fantastic pictures. 

We left to do our errands, which happened to include seeing my mom, who instantly identified it as a cedar waxwing. I later confirmed this with an Audubon reference and a Google search. She even explained the lethargy to me. It turned out to be fairly simple, actually. Because birds are beginning to migrate south for the winter, they of course use a lot of energy and can overdo it sometimes. As a result, they will occasionally choose a less-than-ideal place to land, such as our driveway, and require some refreshment before continuing their sojourn. She told me that sometimes a little sugar water will help them recover more quickly. 

When we got home, the bird had moved on, hopefully not with the help of our cat—but no crime scene seemed evident where we had left it. We weren’t able to provide any sugar water this time, but given the experience, the boys thought we should place a tray outside for any others.

The way out here surprise guests are a part of country living. While I don’t usually go out of my way to disturb nature, this was a special instance. Had it been a skunk, you can imagine this story would have been a little different.