The Feeding I swam upwards from the deep, velvet darkness of a good night’s sleep. Robins belted out their sunrise song through the open window, and farther in the distance meadowlarks added their liquid notes. The sparrows in the top of the fir tree squabbled amongst themselves. Then I remembered. Jack Sparrow! Last night I had left him under the fold of his rag in his bucket-nest, shut in my bookroom. I just about sprang out of bed and ran down the hall to see how he was. But then, a thought held me still. What if Jack had not made it through the night? Maybe the shock of…
