Hulka stomped across the forest valley. Every step made the ferns shiver and the moss bounce.
A squirrel slammed its door. A mouse dropped an acorn. Everything went very still.
Hulka sat down and pulled her knees to her chest. Then she heard it — a tiny peep.
A baby bird lay on its back in the grass. Its wings were flat. It couldn't move.
Hulka leaned close. The wind from her breath ruffled the baby's feathers.
Hulka held out one finger. The baby bird climbed onto it, warm and light.
She stood up, holding her finger straight and steady. She walked toward the tallest oak tree.
A nest hung low in the oak. Hulka reached up with her finger held out.
The mother bird swooped down, chirping loud and fast. She landed right on Hulka's thumb.
Hulka tipped her hand. The baby tumbled safely into the twigs.
The mother bird nudged the baby. Then she looked up at Hulka.
The mother bird hopped once, twice, and bowed her head. The baby chirped. Hulka smiled and lifted her hand away.
