There was a bedraggled sparrow fluttering in the elevator lobby of the parking garage this afternoon when we went to the new nail salon down the street. "Should I shoo it into the garage," Heidi wondered out loud, "or would that be worse?"
The chime sounded and the heavy stainless doors rolled open. "Maybe we can get it on the elevator with us and let it out at street level," I said only half-joking.
Unsure of how to help the plight of the little bird, we stepped into the elevator and rode up one level, exiting on the street and walking to the salon. Upon our arrival, they informed us directly that the wait would be 45 minutes, but we were welcome to make a guaranteed reservation for that time, which we did, relieved to know when our pedicures would actually begin.
We had a few errands to take care of, anyhow, and so we rode back down the elevator, once again encountering the sparrow. Now that we had some extra time on our hands, I returned to the car to fetch a canvas cooler bag and returned to the vestibule, determined to capture the bird for its own good. We chased it around a bit, sending helpful vibes and cringing whenever it hit a glass wall or the elevator or the ceiling, but after a few minutes, Heidi had the little gal tail head down and feathers up in the bag. Quickly we boarded the elevator and dashed outside to release our rescuee.
And away she flew.
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