Lamb was out picking wildflowers when she found the bird lying on the ground. Burdocks clung in clusters to its wings. Its feathers were damp, likely from both the morning dew and exhaustion. She pushed a finger against the fragile chest and felt a faint heartbeat
Sitting cross-legged, Lamb lifted the little bird and set it down in the hammock of her dress. Gently, gingerly, she set to pulling the prickly heads from the feathers.
Her momma found her later that afternoon, kneeling by a small mound of dirt, wiping away tears with fingers covered in burs, feathers and blood.