A post me dad wrote, about the time we discovered a tern with a broken wing huddled in the blusterous night

to sire with love

This little adventure came about many moons ago-soon after losing my wife Jodi.

We would visit a small park, known as Castaway Point, with a beautiful dock that juts out into the peaceful limpid Indian River Lagoon, rife with dolphins, herons, cranes and other exotic fauna.

That night was very wild and exceedingly windy-a glorious evening. And like those who help those affected by tornadoes or hurricanes and other disasters, we got to help a storm victim ourselves.

I was rumbling along the wooden boardwalk when I sighted the forlorn creature. Strange, he was right next to the boardwalk and not flying away as I trundled forth. A set of black-rimmed eyes set in a comical black-topped head with a brilliant orange bill stared up at me. A sleek bluish-white feathered body rounded out the rest of him.

I bent down and he moved away. Then I saw why he…

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