The noise was incessant. I mentioned it to my husband, who was working from home. "What is up with that BIRD?" 

We noticed Kizzy staring intently at something just outside the window. 

It was a baby bird. A fledgling goldfinch, fat as a tennis ball with tiny little legs.

And it was cheeping its heart out.

At first I laughed at Kizzy's interest, knowing he couldn't reach the bird.

Then I worried. 

I called the nature center. They said no biggie, the parents are feeding it. It's just learning to fly.

I googled some things. The Internet said leave it alone.

I had lunch. I took some calls. I worked.

The cheeping continued.

My maternal instincts said something was wrong.

I moved outside to see if any parent birds were coming.

They were not.

I wondered how many hours the fledgling had been alone without food.

The baby bird tried to hop. He fell over.

I called the nature center again. I said, "There are no parents."

She said, "Are you sure he's a fledgling? It's late for that."

I said, "Yes. I'm positive."

She said, "Bring him in."

I went and got a shoe box and lined it with an old tshirt. I put on a garden glove and picked up the baby bird, who cheeped at me. I put him in the box. 

I drove to the nature center.

I talked to the baby bird the whole way there. I told him it would be okay.

When I got there, I opened the box. 

The first thing I saw were his hooked little feet. Hooked in a way they should not be hooked. His eyes were closed.

"Oh, no!" I gasped.

The nature center worker took the box, barely glancing at it. She patted my arm. "I'm so sorry," she said.

I gave her the box as the tears started streaming down my face. I did not want the dead bird's coffin anymore. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated again as I turned to go.

As I drove home, tears streaming down my face, I thought about ISIS and ebola and genocide and war.

But I did not care.

That baby bird was in my backyard. On my deck. And if I had acted faster, I could've saved him.

I felt like we got to know each other a little.

He was my baby bird, and I failed him.