You are a bear. Your day, so far, has revolved around very bear things. You ate. You slept. You stared at a tree that had a very interesting branch on it. You ate again. You talked to a turtle who had interesting opinions about rocks and where they come from (the sky, he claimed).
It is a normal day for you, a bear.
Until you come back to your cave after remembering that you had a few berries hidden under some leaves waiting for you. Your intent was to come to your cave, eat the berries, perhaps nap, and then be back on your way to the forest to do more bear things. Your plans are suddenly shifted once you see a tiny bird sitting in your cave.
It is very small, this bird. Its feathers are covered in dirt and forest debris. Its eyes are closed. Its beak looks weathered, almost chipped. This tiny bird appears to be having a very hard time being a tiny bird. It looks like a baby. A baby bird.
Where is its mother or father?
Where is its nest?
Why is it here?
Does it need water?
Do rocks actually come from the sky?
You do not know the answer to any of these questions, but the last one is very far-fetched no matter how convincing and wise that turtle seemed to be.
The baby bird makes a terrible whistle/cough/hacking sound that you did not know birds could even make.
You choose to…