There was a baby pigeon on the upper landing of the parking garage stairs. It had a mix of skin and feathers, so it was not like the entirely-skin tiny ones which are frequently found (dead) on that landing. This one was closer to a life. But it was breathing very heavily, and I was thinking it probably lacked the muscle development to scurry away. In reflection, it maybe had broken itself when it fell from whatever pipe or lighting fixture its nest had been in.
I did not move it, touch it, or even consider stepping on it since I couldn’t tell if it was in misery or if it was just breathing heavily because it was scared. The only thing I thought I should perhaps do was move it into the sunlight since the concrete was probably cold. But it looked icky, and for all I knew the sunlight would have been too warm, so, I did not do anything. Chances are that if no momma pigeon rescued it, and if no human being stepped on it while walking to their car, then it will probably softly freeze to death as the concrete saps its heat away.