In 2015, my husband Robin took a new job in Ghana. We relocated from London, where I worked as a photographer, to the capital, Accra. Robin worked, but my visa didn't permit me to, and I was left homesick and lacking1. With few people around, I turned to2. I photographed horses and considered the outdoors the place where I felt most3.
In September 2020, after one bad thunderstorm, I found a bird, barely a month old, on the ground. He was4by his flock（群）. His eyes were shut, too young to5alone. I placed him in a cardboard box and stayed up all night, researching how to6him. I spoke to an expert who said it would take 12 weeks to prepare him for the7.
For the next 84 days, the8bird lived on me. He would fly alongside me. As he learned to fly, he'd make short9from my hand, to my shoulder, and then settled on my hair. I10 named him because I had to11myself that he needed to return to the wild. In return for putting his life back on course, he12me by giving me purpose. Three months later, he was 13 enough and flying farther from me. It was time for him to go. Then on a clear day when his flock returned, Robin and I took him out and the little bird flew away with them.
14him taught me how to live in the present. Last year, I joined local conservation efforts. That, along with the15that any little creature can make a difference, is what he left me.
