After running a couple of errands yesterday, Brooks and came home and took our lunch out on the patio. As soon as we walked outside, I noticed a not so little bird laying under the window, looking rather sad. He wasn't moving and I wasn't sure what to do. Now this isn't the first time we have had an incident like this. We have a large window that confuses the little birdies. I think they see their reflection and think it's another bird, so they just keep flying right into the window.
Anyway, we have had about four other birds make thier way into the glass with only one fatality until yesterday. I was with Brooks, who was fascinated by this sweet creature struggling on the ground. I ran in and got some bread and water. Why that didn't work, I have know idea. Then I went inside to get a shoe box for the bird. I gave Brooks specific instructions not to touch the poor bird in case he was diseased or something. Well when I came back the bird was now on it's back about two feet from where I had left him. Only now, he wasn't breathing. It was sad. I carefully nudged him into the shoe box with a piece of cardboard and discarded the box later. I tried to have a short conversation with Brooks about life and death, somehow, I don't think it sunk in. All for the better, I am sure. He is convinced the bird crashed and is just really, really sad in that box. But he did say he would be happy soon. I am sure he is.
So, later that evening I was trying to mend some of my hot and tired hanging planters. I grabbed my trowel and was ready to go to work, when to my utter surprise, there was a mass of fluffy substance in my planter, right where I was going to dig. I screamed and made Bryan invesigate.
Wouldn't you know it...five baby birds. I knew a certain bird, apparently a mother, loved to hang out around this planter. Little did I know she had moved in and brought her family too. These poor birds have been watered all summer and somehow managed to survive. So has the plant, sort of.
Other than a little frightened by the crazy lady with the shovel, the babies seem to be fine and are happy and with their mother once again insid my begonias. It was sort of a sweet end to a crazy day for the birds.
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5 comments:
The babies aren't the offspring of the dead bird, are they? I think you are a bird whisperer, like your dad, and you didn't even know it. It is likely that you will pass that down to Brooks, so make sure to cultivate that gift.....dang it, we miss you guys even more when we hear cute stories about our Brooks!
You're Martha Stewart at decorating, you're Martha at cooking, organizing, and hosting a fantabulous party, but who knew you were Martha of animals-a sort of Crocodile Hunter of the birds. They are surrounding you! I love your little story. I can picture Brooksie's worried eyes! makes me miss you guys!
WHAT A DARLING STORY! I can picture baby birds in your flower beds..if I were them, I'd never want to leave either :
I can totally picture you singing Feed the Birds from Mary Poppins. I had one of those suicide windows when we lived in Idaho.
You had me so worried that the mother bird was the one who died, I am so glad the babies are doing well!!
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