Worm

A tiny baby bird, his grey and white fuzz ruffling around him in the wind, peered at me through a tangle of Texas brush.

"Excuse me?" he chirped. "I'm in a predicament!"

"How's that?" I asked, smiling. This wasn't just a baby bird, it was a really cute baby bird. His big black eyes blinked at me as he peered around.

"I seem to have lost my worm," he said, staring at the mulch below him in confusion. "Have you seen it?"

"Well, what did it look like?" I asked.

"A worm," he said, as if the answer should be completely obvious.

"That doesn't narrow it down much," I said.

The tiny bird sniffled and chirped mournfully. "I was so looking forward to my worm," he sighed. "It would have been my first real one."

I raised an eyebrow. "That I chewed on my own," he added helpfully. I wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so I scanned the ground. Something fast and feathered flew within inches of my scalp. I looked up to see a larger bird dive bombing my head.

"I've got it!" the bird cried, clutching a squirming worm in her mouth. "I've got it! I've got the worm!"

"Hooray!" the baby bird chirped, promptly opening his mouth. The bird swooped around my head a few times before perching on the bush. She leaned down to drop the worm into the baby's mouth.

"Excuse me," she snapped, turning her beady eyes my direction. "This is a private moment between mother and fledgling here. If you please..."

"Oh, sorry," I said, trying not to grin.

"And thank you for trying to help me," the baby bird chirped, returning his beak to it's vacuum-like position.

Turning back, I walked away with a grin on my face. When there's a worm, there's a way.