He Came Down

The distressed peeping from the pigpen was not a piglet. 

As I leaned in closer to look, I saw a speck of movement in the mud. 

It was a fuzzy yellow pheasant chick. My son jumped in the mud, reached down, and took hold of the struggling baby. He handed it to me. It was shivering, filthy, and alone.

We cleaned it off and hurried it to a heatlamp. It plopped down, exhausted, but now, it was clean, warm, and dry.

In the same week, I answered distressed questions from young women w...