He sits close to the glass partition, not to pose but to ponder
all the strange creatures passing by. He will never fly again,
the wound was too severe. But can he know that the wounded
still carry the beauty of their creation? Fallen from the sky
to fly no more, he stands as a monument to the magnificent.
O beautiful friend, I grieve your fate, but I sit on the dusty
pathway, close to the glass that separates us, and give
thanks for this chance meeting.
You transform the moment,
Wounded Friend.
Shining Spirit 
This hit me in my heart-center and tears are rolling down my face. Some wounds cannot be healed. Some conditions cannot be cured. Oh, as we bear witness to those dying in this pandemic. The glass is often thick.
As you know, there are too many people who must live with woundedness. It is the silent companion.
Poor thing.
Can there be a rehabilitation place for this bird?
Or a shelter from predators I wonder?
He is well cared for at the Desert Museum. He lives in a large protected enclosure, so I think he is in a good place. Thanks for your caring concern.