My son, Quinn yelled, “Mom!  A baby bird fell out of her nest!”

     She was a sickly little thing – tiny with transparent wings and one teeny feather on the top of her head.  Her eyes weren’t open yet.

     I didn’t give her much hope of survival and thought, “Here we go again”.  Too often I had experienced the problems of nursing young wild animals. So often they die. Quinn persisted in begging me to try just this "one more time".

     It was hard to tell where the nest could have been for the only trees around were 50’- 60’ tulip poplar and oaks. I couldn't believe she had lived after falling such a distance.  Resigned, I took an old wire pet crate, covered it with mesh screening, filled it with grass and branches, put in a small saucer of water, then slipped Birdie in her temporary home - sure she would not last the night.

     To my surprise, the next day Birdie had one eye open, squawking with her mouth held open, each time I went near the cage.  What in the world should I feed her?

     Fortunately that year happened to be the year for the seventeen year locusts.  I had watched my chickens gobble them up and there were lots of squished ones in the driveway.  Figuring that the females were the ones with the goopy yellow egg mass in their abdomens and, disgusting as it sounds, I started catching female locusts and feeding the egg mass to birdie.  She absolutely thrived on it!  Not only did her other eye open, but she seemed to love what was to become her “protein meal” for the next several weeks.

     I did not let anyone else in my family touch her as I wanted no confusion as to who her “mother” was,( shades of Dr.Suess’s book, ”Do You Know My Mother?”). It was truly like taking care of a baby. She had to be fed every two hours, given drops of water, and would doze between feedings.  While her cage was outside, at any point when I walked past there or, if inside, walked past the picture window where I could be seen, she would start hopping up and down, letting me know – hey, I’m hungry – again. She had me wrapped around her little feet and tugged at my heartstrings.  I also knew that one day soon she would be ready for her transition into the big world.

     I worried about her at night, but she seemed to know that she wasn’t supposed to be active them. My old raincoat became protection for the back half of her cage during the night and when it rained.  During the nurturing process I did not take her out of the cage at anytime.  Her appetite increased as she grew, and soon we graduated to worms which I let her find on the ground, on her own, after hiding them among the leaves and grass on the floor of her cage. 

     Then tree limbs were put into her cage and as soon as she started showing interest in hopping from limb to limb and stretching her wings a bit, I decided it was time for flying lessons. I would put my hand into her cage and she would jump right onto my index finger, chirping her head off, as if to say, “Aren’t you proud of me?”.  Then I would gently move my hand up and down, back and forth to simulate a swaying tree branch and teaching her to move her wings to be able to stay on the branch – my finger.

    After about eight weeks of caring for Birdie, I decided to let her go in my field full of Amelanchier Canadensis (serviceberry) as they were in full fruit at that time. The Amelanchier are huge specimen trees, some sixteen to twenty feet tall, I had been bringing her small twigs to her with the berries on them to let her figure out how to pluck them off to eat them herself.

     When I felt her capable of the transition, with a nervous, heavy heart I took her up to my farm and let her out of the cage.  I’ll not forget the look on her  face when she discovered – hey! I can really fly!  She soared about twenty-five feet at first, flew back to me, at which time she found the amelanchier grove, and started eating on her very own! I was thrilled and so happy!

     The amazing thing was, for the next three days I went down to the grove to check on her. For those three days, there she was, still in the higher parts of the trees. There were many, many other robins, also blue grosbeak, cedar waxwings, mocking birds, cardinals, etc., eating the berries. She had to fend for herself now, so I kept my distance not wanting her to think I was still “mother”.  I’m positive she found a flock of robins to belong to.  I tested her by walking a few steps toward her and to my delight, she flew away from me.  I’ve not seen her since that third day.

     Taking care of Birdie was one of the best experiences of my life.  When a wild creature puts their trust in you like that, it is a very rewarding, amazing feeling.

     So that is Birdie’s story.  I still kind of look for her down in the Amelanchier grove. Every time I see a robin or a robin’s nest with eggs in it, I think that it could be Birdie or Birdie’s nest.