When the Caged Bird Sings... or Not

Last night I had a wonderful time out to dinner with my good friend April. She and Weston had their usual fun and we got to talk. So, I was driving home in the almost dark from Pleasant Hill (about a 15-20 minute drive into my garage) and I was chatting with my mom on the phone.
As I pulled up to my garage I noticed some feather coming out of Scott's garage door. It looked like he had caught a bird in the garage door! I was mortified. I thought the bird was dead. So, as soon as I pull in, I'm hollering (best word for this, trust me) at Scott to open his garage door. I rush over and what do I see? A tiny baby bird, fully awake now and alive. All fluffy and still looking like she has the soft baby feathers. She hops about 2 feet away to hide by our recycling bin. So, Scott shuts the garage door and we go see that she has once again buried herself in the corner of the door. So, I snapped a few pictures and talked to her. I wasn't sure she could fly, you see. Well, I got close enough for a picture, and I was stupid (like a child) and reached my hand out (I know, it's a bird, not a kitten) and she freaked out and flew to the tree (or giant twig) in our front yard. Guess that answers the question as to whether or not she was old enough to fly. :) Here she is though, all tiny and round and fluffy. I know, I'm a dork.