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DOWNS OF HILLCREST HISTORY
Published: August 28, 2025
Our neighborhood is over 30 years old, and a generation of people have built and lived here. They tell stories of lessons learned, cherished friends, growth and change. Those histories need a place to land, and we hope to follow up with more. The Tale of Winston is a first installment.
THE TALE OF WINSTON
by Sara McQuaid
I was sitting in my bedroom reading when I heard an unfortunately familiar thunk on the back patio. I knew what it was because it had happened a few times before. A bird had flown into my large living room picture window. Two cardinals and a blue jay had done it in years past—two dead cardinals and one stunned, but happily able to revive itself blue jay who pulled himself together and finally flew away. This bird though, was my beloved red-bellied woodpecker, a resident of my backyard who fed almost daily at my bird feeder and had returned yearly for several years. His scarlet head and black and white striped body was easily spotted most mornings as he flew from tree to tree stopping to feed at the feeder every minute or so.
I was almost in tears as I looked at him face down, bill looking imbedded in the stone patio and wings outspread. He didn’t move as I watched for a minute or two hoping he would show some signs of life. Nothing. Not knowing what to do, I knew I couldn’t just leave him there in such a pitiable state so I went outside, and in some fear and trepidation lifted him gently up and tucked his wings underneath him so he could at least sit in an upright position. I watched and prayed and in a minute or two he opened one eye about halfway. Oh joy! I thought, not dead!
Our climate in Dallas is moderate for the most part, but this day a cold spell had blown in and the temperature was a frigid 12 degrees. I knew my bird was freezing cold in addition to suffering the effects of the impact. I brought out a soft towel and my hair dryer and luckily there is a plug right there so I was able to set it up to blow warm air toward the deck to try to warm him up. I worried though that it was too much so I constantly re-adjusted the hair dryer and moved it around to circulate the air. Then I brought out a saucer with some water and a little bread and tried to get him to drink a little bit. A drop of blood came out of his mouth which horrified me and convinced me further of the fatal nature of his injuries. Meanwhile I was running inside every other minute to look up on the internet what to do with an injured bird. The main advice was to take him to a wildlife sanctuary but a quick search showed nothing nearby. Another idea was to find a box and set it up with a heating pad and a towel which I did and had at the ready. But mostly I was going outside to check on him and readjust the hair dryer. I put the saucer up to his beak and he took a little bit of water but wouldn’t touch the bread.
After about an hour and a half of this I noticed more signs of life. He began to look around a little and open his eyes more. I had touched him several times even though I knew touching a wild bird is not a good idea, but as he started moving about he would move off the towel and I couldn’t let him be on the cold stone patio. He never flinched or showed any fear at my touch. And of course I talked to him the whole time, urging him to live and to return to his happy life.
This continued for more than two and a half hours. Gradually, he began moving around more and more and finally, he hopped off the towel and onto a throw rug I keep at the back door. I was right there watching and he showed no fear of my presence. After five minutes of hopping around the rug and looking at me, he ventured to the edge of the patio and flew into the trees. I breathed a sigh of relief and prayed that he would survive. I had read that even when a bird flies into a window and manages to fly off he still may not live because of internal injuries and trauma.
The next morning I was up early scanning the trees and watching my bird feeder for a sighting of Winston, the name I had given to my beautiful woodpecker. I didn’t see him the first day and agonized that he had met an unfortunate fate. But the next day there he was! Flying happily back and forth among the trees, feeding at the feeder and I would swear tipping a wing to me waving at him from the window and saying “thank you Momma, you saved my life.”
Since then, I have seen him many times and I know he is well and has no ill effects from his ordeal. Maybe he would have survived anyway even if I had left him alone, but in my hubris I prefer to believe I saved the life of my beautiful best friend, Winston.
The Downs of Hillcrest HOA
