Animal Hospital

I was sitting on the couch this morning, finishing up with a never-ending continuation of the Windows 10 upgrade, and trying to ignore the fact there were chores that probably should be done otherwise we'll soon be living in a hovel, when there was an almighty BANG on the window.

The sound when a bird flies full-tilt into a window that it really should be noticing is so shocking that I wish they'd pay more attention. Honestly, I know it often kills them, but it frazzles my nerves something awful as well.

I went outside, expecting to find a dead bird, but found a live bird in its place. There were some bird friends? enemies? out there with her. I'm not sure whether they were trying to help or what, but three male sparrows dive bombing one vulnerable female around the tale region seemed more like they might not be helping.

In my defence, if they were helping they were pretty bad at it.

Opening the window put paid to whatever services they were or weren't offering the distressed bird, and when the victim remained unmoving on the back porch I went forth to rescue her.

She was little and frightened and her eyes were at half mast. I decided it was unsafe to leave her sitting on the ground within eyeline of neighbourhood cats, so I picked her up carefully and placed her inside one of the bird's nests I've collected over the years.

Not the one with the dead monarch butterfly, blue marble, and empty eggshell because those are my favourite treasures, but in the next best bird's nest.

Once she was safely in her new home, I went inside to fetch her something to eat. I haven't read a lot of books (any) on sparrow concussion, but I'm sure that having a large chunk of bread can't hurt the situation any.

Her beak was firmly open, so there wasn't much chance of getting any of it down her gullet, so I left it perched in front of her face. Her eyes went down to half-mast again, so I stroked her carefully down her backbone? and her eyes flicked fully open again.

Thinking back on it this was possibly due to the terror of having a large creature pick her up, place her in a strange location, dump some artisan sourdough bread which even the creature finds difficult to swallow in front of her, and then attempt to crush all her back feathers into some strange new pattern with her abrasive phalanges.

After a few more trips to check on her, she eventually recovered enough to stare at me with stark horror, and fly away.

They grow up so quickly.