Birdbrain
Once again, I came to the rescue of some poor, defenseless creature being tortured by our dog, Maya. This afternoon I noticed a terrible racket outside. There were birds chirping like crazy and I finally realized that that is not a normal sound around here. (I'm getting good at tuning things out.) I went outside to find Maya carrying around a small bird. The parents were the ones making all the noise as they hopped from branch to branch in our citrus fruit trees. Once again, Maya knew she was in trouble and instantly dropped the bird and went to sit in shame on her bench. I found an old sock of Sean's (I don't want any weird bird diseases), put it on my hand, and hunkered down underneath the bench on our porch where Maya had dropped the bird. As I was getting up from the ground underneath the bench and gingerly carrying the little bird in a socked hand, I noticed that some people had been walking by our house at the same moment. They just stood there in awe, staring at the weird gringa prancing around the yard - a sock on her hand and a bird fluttering like an extra appendage as she stared up into the tree and talked to herself.
It had to look ridiculous and when I realized I had been caught in action I just tried to smile and laugh it off. The look on their faces didn't change and they waited to see what I was going to do with a half-dead bird. I just set him back on the ground near the tree, foolishly hoping he'd fly back up to his nest. Of course, he was just a tad too young to fly yet (or Maya broke a wing), so that didn't happen. I watched for a while as the parents tried to find ways to help their baby. They brought him a beak-full of food and seemed to be anxiously scolding him for falling out of the nest. I tied Maya up, just so she wouldn't complicate an already intense family moment for the birds.
When Sean came home he asked why Maya was tied up. I was in the kitchen fixing dinner so just hollered something like "there's a bird in the yard and I don't want Maya to eat it." Sean's quick response was tinged with incredulity, "Maya is tied up because there is a bird in the yard?!" His worries about my lack of proper sleep and new strange behaviors were finally being confirmed.
In the end, though, once I explained the situation and told him I couldn't just let an innocent little bird die, Sean consented to help me put it back in the nest. I spent quite a while chasing the newly energized fella all over our yard with my socked hand while Sean waited balancing precariously in the tree. (Did I mention it was also raining?) Brooklyn was giggling as I did my best to grab the wiley little guy. I finally caught him, inverted the sock and handed it to Sean to "empty" the bird back into the nest. Sean said in no uncertain terms was he ever going to do that again and if the bird fell out again, nature was just going to have to take its course.
Not twenty minutes later......
I didn't look out the window but the escalated bird chatter was enough to tell me Gus (my name for the baby bird) had strayed from his nest again. My imploring looks went unnoticed by my heartless husband. My subtle comments about not being able to stand the thought of that poor, helpless bird being chewed into nothingness by our dog fell on deaf ears.
Sorry Gus. I tried. Rest in peace.
It had to look ridiculous and when I realized I had been caught in action I just tried to smile and laugh it off. The look on their faces didn't change and they waited to see what I was going to do with a half-dead bird. I just set him back on the ground near the tree, foolishly hoping he'd fly back up to his nest. Of course, he was just a tad too young to fly yet (or Maya broke a wing), so that didn't happen. I watched for a while as the parents tried to find ways to help their baby. They brought him a beak-full of food and seemed to be anxiously scolding him for falling out of the nest. I tied Maya up, just so she wouldn't complicate an already intense family moment for the birds.
When Sean came home he asked why Maya was tied up. I was in the kitchen fixing dinner so just hollered something like "there's a bird in the yard and I don't want Maya to eat it." Sean's quick response was tinged with incredulity, "Maya is tied up because there is a bird in the yard?!" His worries about my lack of proper sleep and new strange behaviors were finally being confirmed.
In the end, though, once I explained the situation and told him I couldn't just let an innocent little bird die, Sean consented to help me put it back in the nest. I spent quite a while chasing the newly energized fella all over our yard with my socked hand while Sean waited balancing precariously in the tree. (Did I mention it was also raining?) Brooklyn was giggling as I did my best to grab the wiley little guy. I finally caught him, inverted the sock and handed it to Sean to "empty" the bird back into the nest. Sean said in no uncertain terms was he ever going to do that again and if the bird fell out again, nature was just going to have to take its course.
Not twenty minutes later......
I didn't look out the window but the escalated bird chatter was enough to tell me Gus (my name for the baby bird) had strayed from his nest again. My imploring looks went unnoticed by my heartless husband. My subtle comments about not being able to stand the thought of that poor, helpless bird being chewed into nothingness by our dog fell on deaf ears.
Sorry Gus. I tried. Rest in peace.
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