James found an injured baby robin in our backyard about a month ago. He, of course, wanted to care for and keep it, but I convinced him that the mommy and daddy robin would help it (because we monitored the baby) and saw them checking in on her. I explained that nature works it self out, and wild animals are meant to be free. I went online and read about similar cases and it seemed the right thing to do. James fell in love. At the crack of dawn he was up, watching silently for hours in the cover of my garden, making sure not to imprint the baby with the sound of his voice, or communicate in any way (advise from the experts). He would report all the information he gathered each morning, the left foot was injured, the wings were fine. It could fly to the top of the small fence, but not into the tree. He named her Fantasy.
On the third or fourth day I saw the baby bird in my garden and she looked dazed and confused. Her eyes were kind of glazed with a coat of goo, and I was able to get really close to her. It was hot and I got the mommy freak out vibe and left a message for the rescue people to call me back with instructions, because I wasn’t sure if the baby was okay. After spying from my backhouse, seeing mom and dad robin visit, and Fantasy wake-up perky, I felt much better. And then the next morning I found her dead in the same spot. I considered lying to James and saying she flew away. Dan buried her. When James came home he asked if the bird rescue people had come. What an easy out. I had to tell the truth, that Timmy got her (they never even called me back). Timmy sucks! How can I teach a cat that it is okay to kill mice and rats but not birds? My new dilemma is I found a baby bird stranded at the bottom of our mulberry tree right in front of our back door. Timmy was outside sleeping on our lawn chair and I grabbed him right up and have been fighting to keep him inside all day. He will get out. This is a ruthless, relentless, buff, cat that thinks he’s a dog. I called Dan and he suggested I put the baby bird back in the tree in one of the big knuckles, which I did. But then Free (I named him!) jumped out again and hopped over to hide in some spider plants against the fence. So I used my gloves (new—no human scent on them) and built a little cave around him out of plastic with holes and rocks, and he’s in there right now. I’ve seen his mom and dad visit with things in their mouths, and I’m just hoping my structure is sound (and doesn’t smash him or his parents) and that he will make it. Timmy is our nemesis, and I will do my best, but I am very afraid. I know this is not Fantasy, and that Free living to fly away can not make Fantasy come back, but I want to do the right thing. I saw Fantasy’s mom this afternoon but she didn’t tell me anything. She just flew away.
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July 2023
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