Nobody noticed the bird.
It lay motionless in the middle of the road.
Wings spread.
Eyes closed.
Cars carefully drove around it.
People assumed it was dead.
Then a firefighter returning home stopped his truck.
Walked over.
And knelt beside it.
The bird didn’t move.
Not even a little.
The firefighter gently lifted one wing.
And immediately called for backup.
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The swan wasn’t dead.
Its wing had become tightly wrapped in transparent fishing line.
Exhausted from struggling, the bird simply gave up.
It lay in the road waiting.
For hours.
The firefighter carefully covered the swan with his jacket to keep it calm while wildlife rescuers arrived.
Removing the fishing line took nearly forty minutes.
The cuts weren’t deep.
But the exhaustion was.
For several minutes after the rescue, the swan remained perfectly still.
Nobody knew if it could still fly.
Then suddenly…
it stood.
Spread its wings.
And lifted into the air.
The firefighter watched until it disappeared over the lake nearby.
Later he admitted something.
“I’ve rescued people for twenty years.
I never expected a bird to make me cry.”
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