A Feathered Escort

A crumpled paper napkin was tumbling straight toward a tiny sparrow busy pecking at crumbs near the lawn edge. I didn't hesitate—I throttled forward across the patchy grass, cutting in on an intercept vector. Banking hard on my left gear, I let out a sharp burst from my propeller. The prop wash caught the napkin right in time, flipping it harmlessly over a dandelion patch and out of the bird's path. The sparrow chirped, cocked its head at my orange wing, and happily went right back to its lunch. Clean clearance on the runway!