As I'm in the middle of three tasks -- reading (procrastinating) to prep for my class that begins Monday, hauling to the basement organized tubs of toy overflow from the soon-to-be-rearranged girls' rooms, and rotating laundry through machines, Hunter interrupts task-master, cranky mom insistently, "Mom, there's a hurt bird." He will have my attention -- it's in his voice, on his face, and planted firmly in his stance upon the basement stairs. My little monkey, funny man, diplomat, gentle caretaker, has an outward disposition that belies his ability to step up and stand firm. And today he will protect this bird.
He guards the fledgling from the family dog, Bogey, while I call the vet and then the Raptor Center for guidance. I leave a message and follow the instructions to check their website. After relaying to Hunter that this bird is going through it's normal process of plopping to the ground while trying to fly and will hop around for some days as it grows more feathers and finds things to eat, I am challenged by my little man that the bird's left leg is injured; he can hear it "crackling."
He buys my collaborative argument that we don't know if the bird is injured or not, that he isn't a bird expert and doesn't really know, and that it is best that we not touch the bird to find out. With clear direction, Hunter gets to work posting a sign on the inside of the mudroom door as reminder to all not to let the dog into the yard unattended, and another note on the door from the garage to the yard for Dad to notice the bird so as not to create a calamitous accident when continuing work on the tree house construction.
Now, I just pray to God that this thing begins to move around the yard, toward a shrub, as it should. If it is, indeed, healthy, then we will not be able to know how it is doing after today, because it will be adept at moving around undetected. Hunter could at least, then, hope the best has happened for his vulnerable underling.
He guards the fledgling from the family dog, Bogey, while I call the vet and then the Raptor Center for guidance. I leave a message and follow the instructions to check their website. After relaying to Hunter that this bird is going through it's normal process of plopping to the ground while trying to fly and will hop around for some days as it grows more feathers and finds things to eat, I am challenged by my little man that the bird's left leg is injured; he can hear it "crackling."
He buys my collaborative argument that we don't know if the bird is injured or not, that he isn't a bird expert and doesn't really know, and that it is best that we not touch the bird to find out. With clear direction, Hunter gets to work posting a sign on the inside of the mudroom door as reminder to all not to let the dog into the yard unattended, and another note on the door from the garage to the yard for Dad to notice the bird so as not to create a calamitous accident when continuing work on the tree house construction.
Now, I just pray to God that this thing begins to move around the yard, toward a shrub, as it should. If it is, indeed, healthy, then we will not be able to know how it is doing after today, because it will be adept at moving around undetected. Hunter could at least, then, hope the best has happened for his vulnerable underling.
We also had several baby birds die in our yard this year.... and I saw one at the park. not sure why this is, but it seems common this year. Benny found one out by the sandbox and came in to get a bandaid for him. so sweet. my heart goes out to Hunter, but God obviously needed those little birds up in Heaven this year.
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