A brief trip into town, past the Hot Rods and Harleys show at the local cafe, which was tying up all the traffic on the half-mile main drag. So we stopped at the garden center and bought a rake and came outside, whereupon I discovered a fuzzy baby blackbird flopping around on the asphalt, dangerously close to passing traffic.
You could tell which of the blackbirds were his frantic parents, and little guy was very manfully attempting to fly (but didn’t have the feathers for it just yet), so I gently deposited him up onto the wall of the garden center where he flapped into a clump of columbine and hid. I don’t imagine he’ll make his way back to the nest, but if his parents keep an eye on him for a day or two longer (and he doesn’t find his way back into traffic) he’ll likely be able to fly soon.