When this fella paid me a visit, the results were messy. First, he broke into my screened porch. Flew through it to be exact, leaving a basketball-sized hole in the mesh. Once inside, he refused to leave the same way he entered and deposited his frustration everywhere. But bird poo took second place to a bigger issue. Which one of us joined him in “the cage” to unlock and brace open two exit doors guarded by an irate set of razor-sharp talons? While we flipped a coin, the Cooper's hawk perched on our fireplace mantel and glared at us with a I-dare-you-to-tangle-with-me stare through the French door glass.
I’m happy to report my husband sprinted to both doors and survived. So did the hawk, who continues to live in the surrounding woods. Everybody needs a helping hand occasionally. Sometimes a life or death rescue is required. Psalm 116:3-6 says, “Death stared me in the face, hell was hard on my heels. Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn; then I called out to God for help . . . when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.” Thankfully, God is faithful and compassionate.
If you’re a bird lover, what’s one of your favorites? Fried chicken and Thanksgiving turkey don’t count.