We were walking across the pasture field, dragging the scrub pine we had just cut, dragging home our Christmas tree for it was only two weeks till Christmas and it felt really good. The snow was at least a foot deep in places, and it was cold, although there was no wind. That is a saving grace in this country, to not have wind. “Dad, do you think mom will give us a cup of hot chocolate when we get home, for it is mighty chilly out today?” “Don’t know son, mom is mighty busy,” I replied as I stopped, leaned down and hoisted Lan up on my shoulders. “Ride a while son,” I said and he grinned and sat tall. As we got to the driveway, I put Lan down and he immediately ran over to the edge of the road where he found a small bird. “Look dad, look! The poor bird is hurt,” he said as he picked the small little bird up. I knelt down and looked and the little bird seemed to be shivering. Our presence did not bother him. “Don’t squeeze him,” I said as we went into the back porch. I found a small berry basket and put an old cotton rag into it. Lan put the bird in and it just sat there, not moving. “Oh birds have fleas and such,” the wife said as she looked at the little bird. “Lan put your mittens on the back porch for we don’t need any fleas,” she added. When Lan came back she called him to the table where there were two large cookies and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Thanks mom, thank you,” the small boy said, then he looked up at his mother, “Can I share my cookie with little bird?” The mother deloused the small bird then took two toothpicks and splinted its wing, trying to get it aligned just right. And then she splinted the small leg, which was bent double. Afterwards, she put some water in a bottle cap, and then she put a few sesame seeds in another cap. “There, Lan after you finish you can put the bird on the dresser in your room. And so Lan carried the box and the little bird around wherever he went, talking to the little bird as if it could understand him. His mother called the vet and asked about how long it would take for the bird to heal, so on Christmas eve morning she carefully removed the two splints and then carried the bird outside to the porch, where she sat him down. The little bird just sat there. Then as they started inside, it hopped on its broken leg and tried to follow. “A few more days,” the mother said. Lan picked up little bird and put him back into his box. Christmas morning while they were opening presents the room went quiet all of a sudden. The little bird had flown over to the Christmas tree and was perched on a limb. A hush fell on the room and the little bird began to sing. And I have had heard birds sing all my life, but this small bird did sing a wondrous melody. Lan walked over and put his finger next to the little bird and it climbed onto his hand. “Mom, Dad, do we have to?” Lan asked with a weighted heart. “Son, the bird is wild and should not be forced to stay inside. Why not take it outside and let it go. If it wants to, it will come back.” Lan’s mouth turned down and he looked sad. Then the little bird began to sing and the little boy took his new-found fiend out into the yard and let it go. And yes every once in a while if the door is open; our little bird friend will occasionally fly into the house and sit on our son's shoulder.