Spring Flings Lots Of Things

(from trees)

Like fledgling Blue Jays. Max and Rex found this little guy huddled up in Max's "fort"* It's a real pain in the ass when baby birds fall into the hedges where your boys are playing because then you can't just let nature take it's course, which would involve leaving the bird where it is knowing that it will probably die there. And possibly be mauled by the dog later on. Every spring this is what happens to many little fledglings. It's a part of life. A part of the spring cycle of events.

But little boys, no matter how spirited and war hungry they are, tend to get all soft when they find little guys like this. And honestly? I wouldn't want it otherwise since it shows that they have a conscience. So a great deal of excitement ensued. We put the baby in a box to keep him safe from the dog and then went on a mad hunt for earthworms to feed it. Isn't that what mama birds do?

This bird incident has brought an alarming fact to light: I have very few earth worms in my yard. We were rushing around because when a baby bird opens his gullet up to you you can't help but feel the urge to put something in it. We did finally find one after digging forty holes in the yard. Then I left Lisa with the boys and the bird and tried to find a number for Wild Animal Rescue in the phone book. One very frustrating thing about Yamhill county is that we have at least three phone books and every one of them sucks. You can't find the number for the police in it. So I then moved my efforts to the computer.

Where I discovered that we don't have a Wildlife Rescue Center per se, or at least I couldn't find any number for one. Instead, what I did find were some instructions on line about what to do if your child drags a mangy little avian baby into your kitchen.

The number one most important thing to do when you find a baby bird out of it's nest is to locate the nest it fell out of. Which, theoretically, shouldn't be difficult since fledglings aren't able to get very far on their own. If the bird is hurt then you should take them immediately to a rescue center, if your local phone books aren't completely useless and you can find a rescue center. Our little blue jay didn't appear to be hurt, though his legs were too weak to support him. Poor wee birdy.

After the kids shook the bushes to death (which is the most likely reason why our little friend was on the ground in the first place) and did a whole lot of arguing, shouting, screeching, and other unhelpful things, we sent them into the house and sent Mark (who is six foot three) into the hedge to see what he could see. He could see a lot of hedge. But no nest. We kept hearing what sounded like other baby birds in the bushes near by, but couldn't see a thing.

If you can't locate the nest, you should build a new one to fix into the branches close to where the bird was found. The parents will likely come back to find their offspring. So it's important not to pull a Dr. Doolittle and keep the bird to talk to all day and have stories written about your crazy-ass self. So we followed the suggestions we read about and built a pretend nest.

We sent Mark back into the hedges, or bushes, or whatever the hell it is we've got back there, to put the pseudo nest into the branches, which he fixed in place with wire. I think the nest might be a little exposed. Mark must too because he made some comments later about how he probably just offered up a meal to the local crows.

Here's the little fledgling that spring (or possibly our boys) flung out of the hedges. He's resting in his cozy tupperware nest of newspaper and dry grass clippings, probably relieved to be finally left alone by those awfully loud incompetent pink tinted creatures who are so clueless they didn't bother to half macerate the earthworm before feeding it to him. I mean, everyone knows you're supposed to regurgitate the worms for baby birds. The nest is even outfitted with drain holes. We did all take peeks at the nest site while making dinner and it seemed that there were parental blue birds flying around the site. So the chances are pretty good that the parents found their lost cublet.

However, I'm afraid to investigate too closely to find out that the little one is dead in his lovingly crafted nest. We really want this guy to make it. But a part of me feels like nature was practicing the natural cycle of life on this guy (by which I mean cruel death) and we got in the middle where we didn't belong.

I guess if I see a vulture out there in the next couple of days I'll know the answer. I guess if I don't I can assume the best possible outcome.