From where I sat, reading and wallowing in my flu-induced misery, I couldn't see any of the half-dozen bird feeders that are scattered across my backyard; I could only hear the conversations of the diners. It's a sound I particularly enjoy.
This one had hit the glass door to the deck. I had only to look up to see it. A little sparrow. Female, based on subtle markings. Stunned, she hopped twice and tried to fly but landed back in the soft snow barely a foot away. I sat watching, silently urging her to try again. Two others like her appeared and perched on the railing nearby. It seemed as though they were watching as well, and urging their companion to join them. One moved closer, to the snow covered table, but neither ventured down to the deck where the injured one sat.