Getting a bird close-up—this close-up—is a rare and wondrous thing, but the reason it's possible around here is typically the result of an avian accident. Oh, sometimes it's because I've been unusually patient and lucky enough to have the Sigma supertelephoto on the camera at the right time. Then, too, if I were involved in bird-banding, I'd often be at bird-in-hand distance, and I'd be awash in close-up opportunities. Neither, however, is the case here. This afternoon, when I was busy writing, I heard a loud thud and ran to the kitchen window to watch a small cloud of gray feathers descending to the ground like snowflakes. I knew there'd be a stunned bird on the leaf litter, and when I went outside, I spotted a barely conscious Tufted Titmouse. I picked the poor thing up, and was delighted to see that it quickly opened its eyes and appeared to be none the worse for the experience of hitting the glass. I made a soft bed for it, raced inside for my camera—micro-lens equipped—and captured images of the Titmouse from every possible angle. I even took pictures of its curled-up feet. It was quite chilly outside, and I think the bird responded well to the warmth of my hand, as I held it gently and encouraged it. The TLC must have worked: when I put the Titmouse back on its "bed" to go inside to put the camera in its "bed," the bird was gone when I returned. I hope it learned a lesson about the occasional illusion of transparency.