All's Well That Ends Well, I Hope

The munchkin was playing in the yard with neighbor munchkins. I hadn’t checked on them for a bit, so I went out and found them bunched behind the azalea bushes, attending intently to something in a white plastic container. When I saw what it was, my heart sank. It was a baby bird, and they were giving it a “bath.”

After impressing upon them that the baby most definitely did not need a bath, I made them show me where they found it. Sure enough, there was a nest in the trees over the area where they discovered it in the grass in our front yard. Tropical Storm Barry likely blew it from its nest, or else, it had made a failed attempt to fly. It perched unhappily on a stick as we carried it back and deposited it on the grass. The poor thing was exhausted. It could hardly hold its eyes open. A quick check of the internet confirmed my suspicions – we should place it near its nest and hope the parents would take it from there. I was afraid that we had handled it too much and that it was so traumatized that it would die from stress. But, soon, a couple of cardinals showed up and fed it.

Another quick check of the internet made me realize that it might be several days before it could fly. So, I made a nest of pine straw in an ice cream bucket for some added protection. Once again, it rode on a stick to its new quarters. After I banished the munchkins to the backyard, mom and dad showed up again to tend their baby.

After supper, the bird was gone. There were no feathers strewn about, so I can only hope that the neighborhood cats didn’t finish it off. Maybe it learned to fly, after all.