To make matters worse, I went down to turn off the water, and there's a baby bird struggling. I felt so horrible I went to put on gloves to put it back in the basket and came back and it was too late. I felt really bad then. But, with just a little walk in the back yard a few hours later, I had a chance to redeem myself. I found a little bird that had fallen out of its nest below one of the big trees, so I gave it a little water and determined that if it survived the night, I would take care of it. It did and I did. I had Randy pick it up and put it in a little bird's nest left over from the year before, then I went and dug up some worms and told him he had to chew on the worms and regurgitate them into the baby's mouth to feed it, so it would think it was its dad. Needless to say, he didn't do that, but he did chop the worm into small pieces and feed it with the tip of a straw. That bird was not in the least bit afraid of us. It was missing its tail feathers, but didn't seem the worse for wear. In fact, it was a spunky little thing and seemed very demanding.
I Googled, "What do baby birds eat that fall out of nests?" and got a quick fix that I liked. The writer said that some birds are pushed out of their nests because they are too weak. I looked again at that spunk, and said that couldn't be this case, but then looked at the bird and saw all those feathers missing, so wasn't sure. The article went on to say that I should put holes in a Cool Whip tub, line it with paper towels, then put a little straw or a nest inside it, then place the bird in the tub and place it as high as we could back in the tree it fell from, and that sometimes the mother and father will alternate between nests. That sounded so good to me, but we decided not to do that until the next day, Sunday. In the meantime, I was hunting worms every spare minute, because those little birds eat all the time when they are that small.
We got home from a movie and the little bird was out on the back patio. Mollie got to her before we did and scared the you-know-what out of her...us too. We got her safely back in her nest, put a little fence cover over her after feeding her one last time before bedtime, then came in for the evening. THEN came this horrible storm around midnight...I'm not kidding, I think it was the worst night storm we have ever had up here. (Of course Randy didn't hear it. I guess he was so exhausted from being "Big Bird" that day.) Anyway, he got up the next day and said the baby hadn't made it through the night. It sure didn't die from hunger, but I'll bet it was scared to death from the storm with no mom to comfort it.
After that, I told the Lord that I guessed we were even. I'd tried to take care of that little bird and had even planned on teaching it to come when called. I had no sooner finished my little prayer, when I felt compelled to walk back to where I'd found the bird in the first place, and lo and behold, there was its brother/sister. I looked heavenward and said, "Why me, Lord? Why me?" I turned away and said, "Lord, this one's yours." In His grace and love, He sent my little neighbor, Olivia the animal lover, over to find that bird. I figured she'd feed it a few worms and that would be that, but no...I guess she needed to find out for herself about "survival of the fittest."
I went to bed with a clear conscience and got up the next morning and went to look at my garden, when I heard Olivia running over from next door. "Mrs. McCann, I've got good news!" I was ready for some good news after the bird mortality rate had just gone up by leaps and bounds due to ME, so I said, "I can't wait to hear. WHAT?" I took that baby bird home last night and put it in a cage and it survived the night!" I looked at her incredulously and said, "You did?" I have to admit that I was a little relieved to know she was now responsible for the bird, and not me. "Yes," she replied, "and my mom told me to bring it back this morning." I looked at her through twitching eyes (That happens when I get unduly stressed.) and asked, "Is it there now?" "Uh huh," she replied with joy. I didn't even hesitate. I told her that this bird was on its own. I had tried to help the other one and it had died. I recounted what I'd read about the mom kicking the weak ones out. I reminded her about the survival of the fittest, because every kid in the world has seen the "Lion King" and knows all about the food chain, and then I told her I was leaving this one for God to take care of. She looked at me and said, "Well, I think it's always best to at least try." I figured that is what she had done, but I walked over to the garden and cast a quick glance through the flowers and didn't see any sign of the baby bird. I've stopped looking, because I don't want to see it. I have painted this beautiful picture in my head, that because this bird appeared to be stronger and had its tail feathers in tact, that it has what it takes to survive. That's my story and I'm sticking to it...but...there's more. Stay tuned.
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