“She came to us broken, but stayed because she felt loved.”
One chilly morning, my husband and I woke to a strange cry echoing from the backyard — soft, desperate, like a bird calling for help.
At first, we ignored it, thinking it might just be a passing sound. But as minutes went by, the cries grew louder and more sorrowful, echoing through the still air.
We finally decided to check.
Behind the garden, on the barbed-wire fence, we found an owl — a large, majestic bird — trapped and bleeding.
Its beautiful wings were caught in the sharp metal spikes, and each time it struggled, more feathers tore, and blood stained its sides.
When we approached, it turned its wide golden eyes toward us, blinking slowly — frightened, weak, yet pleading for help.
Without hesitation, my husband put on his gloves and carefully freed it from the fence.
We wrapped it in a towel and rushed to the nearest animal clinic.
The vet examined it and told us its wing bone had fractured badly.
After cleaning and bandaging the wound, he said it would need weeks of rest and care.
So we brought it home — fed it fresh fish and meat, cleaned its bandage daily, and gently trained its wing when it started to heal.
To our surprise, the owl grew tame and affectionate.
It allowed us to touch, to pet, even to talk to it softly.
It ate heartily, recovered quickly, and soon began exploring every corner of our home — sometimes hiding behind curtains or curling up near the washing machine just to make us laugh.
Though it could fly again, it never left.
Perhaps it had found what it truly needed — not just freedom, but warmth, trust, and love.
And for us, it became more than a rescued bird.
It became family — a gentle soul that filled our home with quiet happiness and peace.
