Temporary Exhibit

The visitor came into the museum, hands cupped, full of apologies.

found it lying on the ground…couldn’t see a nest…too many dogs around to leave it..

the odds are never good but…couldn’t leave it

He opened his hands to show us the blue tit chick, tiny, stunned, curled up in the centre of his palm. Its legs were too long for its body and stretched out awkwardly on either side of its downy chest, but its wings were almost feathered.

We put it in a shoebox lined with tissues in the Lost and Found, nestled between forgotten umbrellas and dropped toys.

The odds are never good

Whilst we waited for the SSPCA we had to return to work, patrolling the galleries full of German swords and Chinese ceramics encased in glass. It was a gloomy day and the grey sky darkened the corridors. Everything cold, everything quiet. Centuries apart from our temporary exhibit, squawking in protest at our attempts to keep it alive, hidden way from the museum’s visitors.

The odds are never good

After a bit of googling we decided to try and feed it, James using the lid of a biro to guide a mess of crushed seed down its gaping throat.

The odds are

We held our breath, willing this one to be an exception.
It was fighting, flailing, our failed fledgling.
Each heartbeat pulsated its body, drumming out a rhythm, a prayer for survival

per-haps
per-haps
per-haps