Growing up as we did, in a farmhouse surrounded by enormous trees, my sisters and I encountered birds of all shapes and sizes. Not all of them got the same reaction from my family. My mother, for example, built special houses for the bluebirds, but would take after the starlings with the shotgun. The robins, naturally, meant spring, so seeing them made us all smile. Many of the birds that visited and built nests near our house were somewhat non-descript. Thrushes? Finches? Wrens? I can’t say. But wherever there are baby birds, there will always be one or two that will fall from the nest too early, and these will always die if humans don’t intervene.
This happened occasionally over the years, and whenever we found a baby bird on the ground, we would put it in a box and start caring for it. Most of these little guys died despite our best efforts, with one notable exception. He (we assumed he was a he) was barely out of the egg when we found him. Our parents tried to prepare us for what they thought would be the inevitable, but we persevered, and lo and behold, little Admiral lived into adulthood with hardly a mishap. He was a small, brown, handsome fellow, who may have been a song sparrow.
We did get one good scare regarding Admiral once he started flying around the house. We found his box empty, and we could hear a feeble distress call coming from somewhere we could not immediately identify. We wandered around the house, listening to his chirps getting closer then further, trying to triangulate. Eventually, we found him inside the oven. Apparently, he had found it open and gone in to explore, whereupon someone came along later, unaware of his presence, and closed the door. We rescued him with no harm done and chided him firmly for putting himself in harm’s way.
Eventually, of course, young Admiral took to the outdoor air, and we thought him gone for good. We did notice, however, for the next several years, that we would often see a small, brown, handsome fellow sitting on a branch close to the house. We don’t know if we were really seeing our pet, but that’s the way we like to tell it.
Sources
Starlings in the US: The Good, the Bad, the Bold, and the Beautiful – PetHelpful
https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/song-sparrow
Top 20 Backyard Birds in Virginia (Free Picture ID Printable) – Bird Advisors
We fed him raw hamburger and bits of bread. His full name was Admiral Richard E. “Bird”
I had forgotten! I will update my title.
In Bournemouth days my first victim (sorry, wife) and I discovered a half-fledged blackbird in our yard with a broken leg. We took her in, made a splint from a straw and fed her until she was ready to fly. The leg healed crooked, so she was very distinctive. She returned to the yard for a couple of years after that, each summer, looking well-fed, and we always put out a few treats. We called her Paula.
What a lovely success story–that must really have been Admiral that we saw for those couple of years. Thank you.
Great story. You’ll never regret kindnesses to little critters.
Thank you! And I also appreciate the introduction to Spotify.
Birds know who’s helped.
I suspect the old bird was just watching you all grow.
Thank you. We loved having him come back to see us.