Friday, July 09, 2021 — (In 14 days, July’s fullest moon [“Thunder”] will rise.)
Week three of “the fledgling saga” begins.
During week one, the rescued baby Robin lived in my garage, housed in a cage, received food often.
During week two, after each early feeding, I would set Robin into my favorite pine and on a low branch. There it slept until noticing my presence, when it would make baby squeaks. Oddly, I recognized them as from my hungry baby. I would lift Bird from its branch and feed and return it. Or I’d let it roam in the garden (it didn’t try flying) to peck around. Bird discovered a water pool, took its first independent drink, had a vigorous bath. Because it yet didn’t fly, Bird was returned to the Pine branch.
After a couple of days, Bird began making fluttery lifts, flying upwards to higher branches and finding its way downwards for feedings when I appeared. After a couple of days, Bird could really fly, shooting from the tree and landing at my feet. Always hungry, now it gobbled two whole night crawlers and chopped fruit (blueberries, blackberries, apple).
Meanwhile, my cat Maxwell to his disappointment has been forced to stay inside. Neighborhood cats knowing Max’s territory don’t appear during daylights, but do roam here nights. (Max through a window sputters and screams at occasional intruders). As for the Robin, after its last feeding just before darkness, I keep it overnight, flying freely, in the garage. In the mornings after being fed, it’s re-set on the low pine branch.
Every few hours the Robin and I communicate. I walk around saying softly, “Bird?”, and after waiting, maybe again then, “Bird, Bird?” Almost instantly I pick baby’s sounds from those of resident Robins. In another moment Bird flies to me wanting a meal.
Yesterday, I saw Bird flying strongly from its pine directly over to a far juniper. That afternoon, I walked in the garden area calling, but didn’t hear Bird. Maybe Baby had flown away and was gone. Aside from feeling slightly empty, that seemed okay.
Yet, something nagged me. Earlier on returning from horseback riding and while down at the barn, I seemed to hear my baby’s sounds. But surely, not down there! Later, when Baby didn’t respond in the garden area, I wandered toward the barn, calling, “Bird, Bird?”
From a tall tree behind the barn streaked a bird, and my Robin landed in front of me.
Last evening, Bird consumed three fat night crawlers (avg. 8″ each), with fruit. This morning Bird waits in the garage for breakfast. Then it’ll go to the pine branch.
Bird is growing, still has baby spots over its reddish breast. Changes occur rapidly and hours make a difference. Today, it’ll show new strengths and behaviors. Maybe Bird will become harder to find on this property. I worry that it doesn’t know about cats or predatory birds, and hope for its safety as independence grows.
Besides having two weeks of fun and learning, I’m amazed by the relationship between me and a baby bird. Especially a Robin! Like, who considers them particularly smart? Well, now I do.
I’m impressed, too, finding that my ear can identify one infant’s small sounds, among the many others being made by birds in our vicinity.
Today will begin week three of our learning. As long as Baby needs, I’ll feed. Nonetheless, it’ll be wonderful when my little one finally can find and pull earthworms on its own.
Baby, above all, stay safe!
Dear Friends: Whoever might have guessed that a serendipitous rescue incident would have legs! Diana