I could hear the heart beats of the dad-sparrow, as it peeped through the grills while I was inspecting the baby-sparrow struggling on the floor. I knew what was going on in the dad-sparrow's mind, but my 'I-know-the-difference-between-a-chicken-and-a-sparrow' look assured the dad-sparrow that I was not a mindless carnivorous.
With one look one could guess that this featherless bird had not come flying miles to land on the staircase of my apartment. It had simply fallen down from it's cozy nest, which it's parents had built inside a telephone cable box, 9 feet above. It was a lucky day for the baby-sparrow. I picked it up carefully with the help of two pieces of paper, taking care that I don't hurt it, and gently placed it in it's cozy nest. I knew I had done the right thing, and I truly hope the baby-sparrow survives to take wings soon.
I looked at the Dad sparrow who gave me a gentlemanly nod of acknowledgement and took off.
Lucky baby-sparrow. Happy me.
