Tiny But Intense

Something feathery flew past my head and landed in a corner of the room where there are many places to hide. It was followed by a cat. I searched the corner- but not very thoroughly for fear of frightening it to death or squashing it- and waited for it to make the next move. Ten minutes passed and then it took to the air, made for the light- and collided with a plate glass window. This time it was easy to find- resting, stunned, on a bag of cat litter with its sharp little beak wide open as if gasping for air. It was a wren. I've never handled a wren before.

I took it outside, put it on a hedge and willed it to come right.

The beak closed, the eyes opened, it started looking around. Wrens are tiny but intense. I walked away because I thought my continued presence might be intimidating. When I walked back again- a minute later- it was gone.