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It was a warm evening in late June, and the sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood. I was walking my dog, Bailey, when she suddenly stopped and started sniffing at something near the curb. As I got closer, I saw it: a tiny bird, lying flat on the pavement with its long, scythe-like wings stretched out. My heart sank. I’d seen birds like this before, and it rarely ended well. I assumed it was injured, maybe hit by a car or simply sick.

I knelt down, worried about what to do. The bird seemed so delicate and vulnerable. It wasn’t moving, just lying there, completely still. Just as I was about to call a local wildlife rescue, a neighbor, Deborah, came walking by. She had a kind, knowing smile and a gentle way about her.

“Ah, you’ve found a swift,” she said calmly.

“Is it okay? It looks hurt,” I replied, my voice full of concern.

Deborah chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, it’s not hurt. They just can’t take off from a flat surface. They’re built for the air, not for the ground.”

She explained that swifts are incredible creatures, spending almost their entire lives in flight—eating, drinking, and even sleeping on the wing. Their long wings are perfect for soaring and diving but make it impossible for them to get the lift needed to take off from a flat surface like pavement. They need a drop, a little bit of height, to catch the air and begin flying.

This simple piece of information was a revelation to me. I’d always assumed a bird on the ground was a bird in trouble. With Deborah’s guidance, I gently scooped the swift into my hands. Its small body was surprisingly light, and I could feel its little heart beating rapidly. I held my hands up, a few feet off the ground, and ever so slightly opened my palms. The swift paused for a moment, as if collecting itself, then with a powerful flutter, it caught the evening air and shot upwards.

It didn’t just fly away; it soared, circling high above our heads, as if celebrating its freedom. It was a beautiful, humbling sight. That evening, I learned a valuable lesson about not judging a situation by what it seems to be. Thanks to Deborah, I now know that if I see a swift on the ground, I don’t need to fear the worst. I just need to lend a helping hand and give it the little lift it needs to get back to its home in the sky.