Last year, I wrote about my bird obsession (Birdie Babysitter for Hire) and how I worry about them. Specifically, I worry about the little baby birds in the nest. Nothing gives me that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach like finding a bird's nest when I know the baby birds weren't done with it.
Much to my horror, I'm a studdabubba about the baby birds. Hence, we have many birdhouses in our yard. Daily, I make the rounds and check on their progress. The first batches of Spring had hatched and flown off months ago, but Hubzam discovered new babes in one of the boxes. They poked their heads out as he mowed the lawn and he came in and told me...he's nice like that. I love the birdies.
In fact, there they are in the picture above.
My basic advice to anyone is leave wild animals in the wild. Don't bug them. I don't follow my own advice, but it's mainly because of one random incident.
A few years back, a cold and icy rain was falling. I don' t know what possessed me to go out and look at the bird box closest to the house. Approaching the fence post/box, I just happened to look down and there was a naked, featherless bird. Horrors! It was pretty far from the box, too. Everything you read says not to touch them but this guy was headed for his Maker, no doubt about it. As I walked closer to the bird box, I found two more. These guys were wet and cold, poor things.
Throwing chance to the wind (as they say), I held up the hem of my shirt and placed all the birds there. I folded the material over them and gently tried to dry them off. They still looked ice cold and I thought it was too late; it occurred to me that I had nothing to lose. With all the birds in my cupped hands, I breathed on them to warm them up. By this time, I'm also looking around to see if the neighbors are pointing at me and saying, "What the heck?"
By removing the top of the bird box, I was able to place them back in the nest but no confidence kicked in. I couldn't see how such fragile creatures would survive. Vowing to check on them daily, I left them alone and watched from inside. Soon, Mama reappeared but I wasn't sure if she'd stay. The only thing I WAS sure of: she would never have gotten those birds back in the nest.
They all survived. It's a feathered miracle.
Since then, I'm more of a bird helicopter mom than usual with my daily bird rounds. The side affect of this is that the birds frequently cease to be afraid of me. There's nothing I love more than a bunch of birds who come to the opening when I look in the box.
Look how young those guys (or girls) are - they don't have any feathers yet. I'll bet they were hungry; just look at the two in back. Unfortunately, I can't help them with that.
But this bird bird was totally uncalled for...maybe they don't have a mama...she would have taught him better. Who taught that bird to be so rude? Talk about corrupted youth...