You probably saw my recent Facebook posts about my Baby Sparrow Saga. I'll tell you what; I never knew I could get so emotional over a bunch of birds. Here's how it went down:
Early in the spring a couple of sparrows built a nest on a vent above my basement patio door, inside the screened-in area underneath my deck. There had been an identical nest in the identical spot last year, so I wasn't surprised to see them return, and I didn't think anything of it. Aside from sending the birds flying every time I stepped out of my office for a smoke, my relationship with the birds was pretty typical and uneventful.
Until Monday.
On Monday morning I gradually realized that something outside the patio door (which is in my office) was making a heck of a racket. I looked outside and saw the mama and daddy birds hopping and darting around, cheeping like mad, obviously in distress. I got up and took a closer look - only to find their nest lying on the concrete patio. It had fallen off the vent above the door. After grabbing some gloves and a stool, I went out and took a closer look. The nest had at least one living baby in it, and two others had fallen out either on the way down or upon impact, and were lying on the concrete. These baby birds can't have been more than a couple days old. Completely devastated, I gently picked the babies up, placed them back in the nest, and hurriedly put the nest up on the header board of the deck. Not where the nest was before, as there was no way it could go there again, but I hoped it would be good enough. I quickly grabbed my stool and went back inside. And then I watched. And hoped the mama and daddy birds would come back.
And they did. Pretty much as soon as I went inside, they did come back, and I caught a glimpse of mama in the nest, inspecting her babies. Whew - disaster averted. Or so I thought.
Late yesterday morning I looked out my patio door to see if the nest was still there. It was. I then looked to see if mama and daddy were still hanging around. They were. Then I spied something lying on the concrete patio just outside the screen porch. It was a gray shape that looked suspiciously like the babies I had returned to their nest just the day before. With a knot of dread in my stomach, I grabbed my gloves and went outside. Sure enough, it was the corpse of a baby sparrow. Two others lay next to it. I gathered them up and tossed them in the woods -- it was really hot, and they stank. I was so sad, but not overly surprised...I thought they might have been injured in their original fall and died in the nest - only to be heaved out by their parents overnight. I checked the nest from above through a crack on the deck floor and saw two more babies - one obviously alive, one obviously dead. I thought I might see the dead one on the concrete this morning when I got up.
This morning I set my own babies down to their breakfast and stepped out onto the deck for a smoke. I looked over the railing - and sure as shit, there was a baby lying on the concrete. I about died when the damn thing moved. I immediately ran downstairs, brought the stool and the gloves back out, and returned the live baby to its nest. I found the corpse of the dead baby and tossed it.
And since then, all day long, I have been extremely concerned about the welfare of the one surviving baby. I don't know how the damn thing has survived two ten-foot falls, but it's still breathing every time I check on it. I even saw mama sitting in the nest and apparently feeding her baby. The last time I looked in on it, it was hanging half out of the nest - still breathing, and I once again put it back in. Perhaps another attempt - this one failed - by mama to heave the baby over the side again? Quite frankly, I don't think it's looking too good for my little buddy. I'm pretty sure he'll be dead by morning, and probably lying on the concrete for the third damn time.
I kind of feel like this is Human vs. Bird. I suppose there's a reason the mama bird tosses her babies out of the nest, and I'm probably interfering and meddling by continuing to pick them up and put them back in. But I'll tell you what - the poor little thing is still alive, and I'm all for giving it a chance to live. I know that humans and birds are nothing alike, and I understand the concepts "survival of the fittest" and "the circle of life." But I am a mother, and my maternal instinct kicked into overdrive as soon as I saw the nest on the ground on Monday. I just had to try and save these poor defenseless brand-new baby birds. I guess I'll never understand why small-brained animals behave the way they do, or why their instincts tell them to do certain things. Maybe the real problem here is that I have to see it because it's right outside my fricking door. If the nest wasn't attached to my house, this wouldn't be a problem.
Maybe it's time to bird-proof the old screen porch?
