Memorial weekend 2008....as I was strolling through the field where I walk my dogs on a daily basis, I almost stepped on this little tuft of gray matter hidden in the grass. As I look closer, it popped it's little bald head up and squawked, FEED ME!
It was this little guy. A Grackle nestling that had fallen from his/her (never could figure it out) nest about 15 feet straight up, so I couldn't put it back in the nest. Being the huge animal lover that I am, there was no way I could just leave the poor little baby there all alone in the grass. She was already having a bad hair day, so falling out of the nest did not make the day any better.
No wildlife re-habilitators called me back since it was a holiday weekend, and I knew the poor baby wouldn't last the night alone. So... Seymour (what I called her because I was reminded of that flower in "Little Shop of Horrors" crying Feed Me!) came home with me, and I became Momma Grackle for a day. I found myself a little box, stuffed in some toilet paper (Charmin, of course), and Wallah! The perfect little nest.
Seymour was very alert and quite the little chatterbox. Every time I would walk near the box, she would assume I was momma returned with a nice juicy regurgitated worm or some other nasty stuff. I was NOT about to chew up some worms! No worries, though. Come to find out, I read online that I could feed her wet, softened bits of dog food kibble, and THAT I had plenty of. Seymour gobbled it up like it was the best meal a Grackle could have, and I felt very proud to accomplished my momma bird skills with such success. Seymour was content till morning when the rehabilitator finally gave me a call telling me to bring my baby on over. She would take care of her until she was able to be set back out in the world. It felt good to not turn my head and think...Oh, it's nature's way. Screw that! I believe we as human beings should help out anyone or anything that needs it when their lives cross paths with ours. Maybe there was a reason for us being there at the right time to help. Either way, Seymour is happy and healthy, and moving on. Who knows...maybe one day she will be come back and visit with all the other squawking neighborhood Grackles who eat up all the seeds in my bird feeders. *wink*
A face only a mother could love. Check out the feet on this little one! Talk about "growing into". Kinda reminds me of "Salad Fingers".....Helloooo! *laughs*
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
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3 comments:
that has got to be the ugliest bird i've seen! hahaha!
something similar happened to me a couple of years ago...
hubby had just washed his car and was drying it off (yeah he's one of THOSE). i was sitting on the ground reading and saw this little bird doing something (that looked like trying to bathe) in the water under the car. i watched, noted, and kept reading. then it came out from under the car and the water and kept doing its goofy lil dance. it was then that i realized it had gotten into (or someone sprayed on him) some of that yellow foamy stuff that expands and hardens. it was on his head and wings and it couldn't separate its wings to fly. so sad. so i put on some garden gloves and tried to catch the thing (it was bent on self-preservation). calmed it down some then tried to cut the stuff off of it. got most of it off without clipping the primary feather but it was still stuck between all the feathers and i was not gonna try to cut those. so wildlife folks came out the next morning and all was right with the world again. ;)
Yeah, Seymour wasn't going to be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but she definitely grew on me. ;)
I know this was a while ago but I just found one of these, same situation as you described, but it was by a tree in a parking lot at a local public pool.
I found your blog because I was googling how old before they can stand. This guy, seems to not have great coordination with his feet. They get stuck in his feathers (what he has of them) and only seems to want to be one-sided. I see no cuts, can move the wings w/o causing pain, and the leg too.
I wonder if this is normal.
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