Early in the summer, two gray birds with pale yellow chest feathers started building a nest in the exterior eave of one of our outbuildings. It wasn’t a difficult job. There were remnants of a previous nest to work with, and the two simply added a bit more grass and some fluffs of wool. At first, I thought to regularly check and see if there were any hatchlings, but soon forgot all about them.
Last week, we held an herbalism workshop and poetry reading at the ranch using the aforementioned outbuilding as our gathering place for both events. Participants kept noting the birds circling over their heads. It was clear the birds weren’t very excited to have a crowd milling around. It never occurred to me, but definitely should have, that their consternation might be because there were babies in the nest.
Five days later, I was once again packing the car for a trip. The car was overfull and there was still more that needed to be packed, so my husband and I began a complicated game of car trunk tetris. On one of the trips from the house to the car, I noticed a small feathery lump on the ground–a tiny, baby bird, nearly fully feathered, but too small and weak to be alone. Overhead, the baby’s parents swooped and called (the birds from the outbuilding nest, of course) and I realized I had been hearing them talk to this little one on the ground for a while.
Contrary to popular belief, you CAN return a baby bird to the nest. The smell of human hands does not prevent the baby from getting fed by the parents. So, my husband pulled out the ladder, and returned the little one to the nest. The parents immediately stopped crying, and began swooping in to check on their rescued nestling.
It would have been lovely if the story had ended there, but it wasn’t long before we discovered another, different baby from the same hatching a little farther away. This baby was sturdier than the first, and closer to fully feathered, but the abundance of cats and dogs in the yard means that even a healthy fledgling doesn’t stand much of a chance. Two babies on the ground also made me question whether returning this one to the nest was a good idea after all.
After a quick google search, I decided the next best option was to put the baby in a basket tied to a tree limb so skinny that a cat wouldn’t dare climb out to eat it. Bird rescuers on the internet assured me that the parents would feed the baby as long as they could hear it.
I filled the basket with wool. The little bird snuggled into the small, round indent I’d made for it, and fell immediately asleep. Car packing continued, but I kept glancing at the basket, hoping the baby would wake up and start calling so I could be sure the internet was right.
Dusk was approaching when I heard a faint, high keening. It was the baby, and within seconds I heard the parents responding with the same call. The car was mostly packed by then, and I watched from the kitchen window to see if the parents would actually find and feed their wayward babe. I couldn’t say for sure, but it certainly appeared the parents knew exactly where the baby was and were trying to figure out what to do about it.
The next morning I made a quick batch of pancakes for the road, but not before running out quickly to check on the little bird. Still nestled in the wool, the baby let out a thin, whistling cry at my approach. Overhead, I heard the response from one of the adults. I scuttled away as quickly as I could and sure enough, the parents came swooping behind me. I got on the road with a smile on my face. It was awfully nice to start the trip with a happy ending.
