Slim Randles
When we first noticed the baby sparrow, here at the house, it saddened us all. He
had fallen from his nest and was slowly walking around the front yard under the
tree while his mother and father had an absolute fit.
We knew we were looking at a dead baby bird, as it was only a question of who
does it, where it is done, and how long before it happens. Years of experience in
these kinds of things have taught us the finality of a baby bird falling out of a tree.
Would the end come from a cat, or from a raccoon wandering up from Lewis
Creek, or a snake? One of the problems with being a baby bird is that almost
everything with teeth wants to eat you, and if you can’t fly, there’s not much you
can do about it. We learned that picking the baby up and putting him back in the
nest wouldn’t work, so we were forced to just watch his timid movements around
the yard and whisper to him, “I’m sorry, pal.”
You might think that the older we get, the tougher our shells become to these little
natural tragedies, but it doesn’t seem to work that way. Maybe it’s because we’ve
now had children of our own, and grandchildren, too. Maybe that’s why it actually
hurts more to see a helpless baby bird today than when we were 11 and riding our
bikes on the river trails. Back then we were bulletproof, flexible, and immortal. But
we learned things over the years. We saw people our age die. We saw younger
people die. We accumulated our own little collection of personal tragedies.
Then the baby found the drain spout. Yep, that little rascal hopped into the drain
spout coming off the roof and had sense enough to stay in there, coming to the
edge of his “cave” only for meals from his anxious mother. A week later, I thought
I recognized him sitting on a tree branch, looking smug. He wasn’t in the drain
spout and I didn’t see any feathers around on the ground.
We live in an age of small miracles.
If you find an injured bird, you can always call or email the experts here at
injuredbird@nycbirdalliance.org. NYC birds tend to fly into glass windows,
I’m told.
