Autumn came, heralding golden leaves that fell to the ground in lackadaisical piles. Jack Minnow felt the cool air brush his cheeks, his small body spread-eagled on a hill of emerald grass. His eyes watched the shifting golden canopies lit by the sunset, and a deep sense of peace settled over him. Thanksgiving break was here, and he had all the time in the world.

Their cottage stood a little ways back, a small, derelict thing which held a cozy charm. He could barely hear her mother working within, finishing building an ornate fireplace. She’d be here soon, he knew; she always checked on their ‘little Jackie,’ and he wanted nothing more than to share this sublime scenery with the ones he cherished most.

‘There’s nothing nicer than rural Ohio in autumn,’ he thought as he surveyed the small shrubbery. A small head poked out of a bush before a large form emerged from the underbrush, eyes twinkling, its golden fur matching with the warm colors of autumn. Jack rushed up to his golden retriever, Lucky, curious. “Why are you back so soon, boy?” he murmured. The dog shook its furry mane once before depositing something small and furry onto the cushion-like leaves.

He felt a wet tongue tickle his ear as he bent down to inspect the prey. A small bird, white-colored, its wing bent at a strange angle. Jack gasped, backing away from the wounded creature. “Mom!” he cried. “I- I think Lucky found a hurt baby bird!”

Moments later, footsteps sounded down the path and a brown-haired figure emerged in the distance. His mother, Annie Minnow, crouched down behind him and gasped at the sight. “Here-- we’ve got to help his wing,” she said, slowly picking up the bed of leaves upon which the bird sat. Her movements were slow and cautious so as to not disturb the small creature. Its curious dark eyes were filled with agony, and it chirped and buckled all along the route to the cottage.

They were lucky that his mother was a veterinarian, Jack thought as they made their way up the stairs of the cottage. She placed the leaves with the bird into Jack’s hands, saying, “Don’t drop it!” before dashing into the back room for her tools. Jack stared at the small bird, which stared back at him with panic in its eyes. He gave it his best smile, hoping to reassure the little thing.

“It’s okay,” he said, as if talking to a small baby. “We don’t want to hurt you.” Surprisingly, the little bird seemed to relax slightly at his cooing tone; or perhaps it’d realized that struggling would only aggravate its wound. A moment later, his mother returned, some pins and a strip of gauze cradled in her arms. “Step back,” she ordered, adopting the professionalism of a seasoned veterinarian. He obliged, leaving the room and wandering outside. For the next half an hour, he paced restlessly on the balcony, finding himself unable to leave.

A moment later, a voice rang out from within the cottage. “Come in!”

He hurried inside to find the small bird chirping happily, a makeshift cast holding one wing together. It hopped about, flapping one wing before almost tumbling down the table. Jack laughed and cradled it in his arms, watching as the little thing cuddled itself against his chest.

“I’ve given it some painkillers,” his mom explained, exasperated. “Here, give it to me,” she said, holding out a hand. Jack reluctantly returned the furry creature, watching as his mother slowly placed it in a small box.

“You can visit it, but don’t take it out of the box,” she ordered. Jack hopped up and down, excitement written all over his face. “Can- can we name it?” he asked. “Absolutely not,” his mother replied curtly, taking off two plastic gloves. “We’re going to release it to the wild in a week. Creating any emotional attachment only--” she cut herself off upon seeing the crestfallen look on Jack’s face.

“Alright, fine,” she allowed. “But just know we’re going to release it soon. Don’t get too attached to it.”

“I think I’ll call it Jackie Jr.!” he exclaimed.

In the days to pass, Jack spent much of his free time playing with the little bird. He even left the house to pick up nuts to feed it, a plan which would have been disastrous had his mom not intervened at the last moment to tell him that his ‘blueberries’ were poisonous. It chirped and bounced and snuggled up against him. Jackie Jr. especially loved napping in the palm of his hand, its small, yellow beak resting on the tips of his fingers.

Soon, a week had passed by, and it was time for the bird to go. Its wing was almost fully healed now, though it had not yet attempted to fly. His mom and he stood in the balcony now, the small dove peaking out curiously from within his arms.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, Jack Jr,” he said softly. A pang of sadness stirred in his chest as the little bird looked back to him, confused.

Suddenly, a chirp rang out in the distance. A large dove descended onto a nearby tree, calling out to Jack Jr. The little bird perked up, its head swivelling to eye the larger bird.

“I think that’s its mother,” Jack’s mom said softly. “It’s time to let it go, Jack.”

“Alright,” Jack sighed. With one hand, he gently lifted the small dove to the sky. Jack Jr. gave him one last remorseful look before taking off, soaring to join its brethren and leaving a little boy with his mother to watch in silence.