The boys called him Jayber, an odd name for a robin, but they’ve heard me talk about Wendell Berry’s novel, Jayber Crow, and I guess it seemed like a good name for this bald, homeless bird. Little did they know that the character in the novel was also a balding orphan in search of a home.
For a few days, it was not clear that Jayber would survive, but he turned out to be a bird of some pluck. As the days passed he grew, his feathers began to come in, and he become increasingly mobile. The shoebox kept him contained for a time, but eventually he managed to get to the rim and he was soon attempting to explore the house. We graduated to a larger box, fully three feet deep, complete with branches for perching and a lid for closing. We shut him up at night, and as long as it was dark, he stayed quiet. The least amount of light or noise would set him to chirruping.
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