My neighbors have a few animals; two cats and a dog. Recently they adopted a baby bird that had fallen from a roof nest. It was resting on a window sill, looking dead. It was like a fetus, all pink, eyes closed, weighing less than a golf ball. When my neighbor went to clear it off the sill, it stirred--it was alive! So they took it inside. They learned on-line how to care for it. I'm good friends with them, so I helped out. Over the course of two weeks, we watched this amazing little thing grow. It was quite an experience, both in curiosity and in heart. The little thing had personality, determined to survive. It was fed dried cat food blended into a semi-liquid paste, that seemed to give enough nourishment. The bird was thriving, soon flapping its wings even though it still couldn't quite stand up on its tiny thin feet.
To keep the bird away from the cats, they kept it in the kitchen microwave above the stove. It is vented and the stove bulb underneath was perfect for keeping it warm. It acted like an incubator/nest. As the bird got larger, they felt it needed more air, so they left the door propped open. One of their cats took a keen interest in this new addition and started stalking the microwave. They had a tether in place to keep the door from opening no more than 1", so the cat couldn't get in.
But...
That damned tenacious cat... as friendly and affectionate as it is, it's a killer. And it wanted that bird more than anything. Tonight, while my neighbors were out, the cat figured out how to unlatch the tether that was keeping the door from opening all the way. When they got home, there was 0% trace of the bird. The cat must've gobbled up the thing whole. They really should have taken the cat's interest more seriously and provided a better barrier. The little guy never had a chance.
I'm so incredibly saddened tonight. I know, it was just a bird... a common bird from the wild. There are many hundreds of thousands of them out there. But, this one was such a survivor. I'll never forget the tiny thing resting in my palm, chirping with a gaping maw, while I fed it food paste with the finger tips of my other hand. It would eat heartily until it had enough. Then it would be off to bed in the shoebox, wrapped in paper towels. As its wings started developing feathers, we'd swing our hands up and down, giving it a chance to flap its wings while its body remained hand-bound. The bugger was getting stronger every day. In about another week's time, it would probably be able to fly. We had such anticipation to see how this little guy would turn out. If his bond with us was weak enough for him to take off on his own once he was big enough, or if he'd remain in the area, not wanting to leave its caretakers from infancy.
Captain Jack Sparrow was his name. May he rest in peace...
To keep the bird away from the cats, they kept it in the kitchen microwave above the stove. It is vented and the stove bulb underneath was perfect for keeping it warm. It acted like an incubator/nest. As the bird got larger, they felt it needed more air, so they left the door propped open. One of their cats took a keen interest in this new addition and started stalking the microwave. They had a tether in place to keep the door from opening no more than 1", so the cat couldn't get in.
But...
That damned tenacious cat... as friendly and affectionate as it is, it's a killer. And it wanted that bird more than anything. Tonight, while my neighbors were out, the cat figured out how to unlatch the tether that was keeping the door from opening all the way. When they got home, there was 0% trace of the bird. The cat must've gobbled up the thing whole. They really should have taken the cat's interest more seriously and provided a better barrier. The little guy never had a chance.
I'm so incredibly saddened tonight. I know, it was just a bird... a common bird from the wild. There are many hundreds of thousands of them out there. But, this one was such a survivor. I'll never forget the tiny thing resting in my palm, chirping with a gaping maw, while I fed it food paste with the finger tips of my other hand. It would eat heartily until it had enough. Then it would be off to bed in the shoebox, wrapped in paper towels. As its wings started developing feathers, we'd swing our hands up and down, giving it a chance to flap its wings while its body remained hand-bound. The bugger was getting stronger every day. In about another week's time, it would probably be able to fly. We had such anticipation to see how this little guy would turn out. If his bond with us was weak enough for him to take off on his own once he was big enough, or if he'd remain in the area, not wanting to leave its caretakers from infancy.
Captain Jack Sparrow was his name. May he rest in peace...
