I stood on the top of the pile and started digging. When my snow shovel hit the aluminum roof I heard the faintest sound. A little coo and some chirps. My god, they were still alive under there? I frantically pulled apart the wood and roof and into a little pocket of air and apple crate that had turned on its side making a little serendipitous teepee. Inside the two wet birds were huddled together, Emily and Mac. I pulled them out and carried them in my arms back into the house. It was pouring outside and I was soaked through from the avalanche mission. I just put them down on the mudroom floor and left to change. I knew they were too out of sorts to go far. The dogs were asleep in their crates so they didn’t even stir when I carried the refugees through the house and into the garage. I placed them in a big cardboard box with pine shavings, clean water and some feed. I covered it with a section of wire fencing and let them go to dry off and relax.
The bird’s pocket of air from the snow couldn’t have been more than 20 square inches of space. Had I waited till after work to check on them I doubt they would’ve made it. Two lucky little black birds in the snow.