Baby Birds

I think we must be suckers for helpless animals. Here's another story... our version of "Are You My Mother?"

We noticed a bird's nest in one of the gourds on our fence with four baby birds in it. One evening we saw our cat, Ven, with one of the birds held gently in his mouth. Abby carefully pried it out and returned it to the nest. We then noticed another baby bird that had fallen out below the gourd. The next day we checked on the baby birds and the mother must have abandoned them. Sadly, only two of the four birds were still alive. We had a little burial for the two that had died, and rescued the two remaining.

We fed the baby birds water from a tiny bottle, and a mixture of jam and milled flax seeds from a tiny syringe. (Didn't really feel like smashing up worms). They loved it.



I wish I could say that these birds grew and eventually flew away to find their mother, but I'm sorry to say they didn't make it through the first night.



We had them in a box, with plastic mesh clothes pinned on top, placed high on the top of our barbecue. I knew our cats couldn't get to them, but didn't consider other nocturnal wildlife. I should have brought them into the garage or put them back into the gourd. Either a raccoon or an opossum got to them. What is it with our life and death experiences? Our children are getting a big dose of the circle of life.