Express Compassion to All Living Things

I think it is perfectly okay, and even healthy emotionally, to admit that if you feel sad on holidays it is okay to just muddle through the day in any way that pleases you while contributing to any holiday obligations you may have, but that also keeps your spirits up. My go to personal care for the ‘gloomies’ is crafting of course, gardening too, and taking the time out to recall the better times in my life.

Compassion and kindness should always extend to yourself as well as others.

Remembering one of the happiest, joyful, and most stressful work I’ve done was both raising handfed baby parakeets for sale and being known to my neighborhood as the ‘bird nut’. Charming title, but the sentiment is spot on. Critters in general have my heart but birds are a favorite. Many a time I opened my front door to a box on the step that chirped (or didn’t) with a short note on top about the contents. Pitter pat goes my pulse and out comes the rescue supplies. On a warm spring morning in 1996 furious pounding on my front door along with a loud shout of “hey, bird nut” come quick – alerted me to what was immediately coming my way, but not futuristic knowledge of how titanic the project would be.

At opening my door, a huge man in both height and weight appeared, elbows extended, holding a large box out towards me leaning so far over I thought he would topple in. To say he was anxious to get rid of his parcel is an understatement, but credit is due when required. His chivalry towards nature’s critters resulted in rearranging his neat as a pin work attire. His tie was crooked; the knees of his perfectly pleated pants scraped, and he was sweating profusely through his starched white shirt with something looking suspiciously like bird poop sliding down the front. It certainly explained the panicked look on his face, yet he had taken the time on his way to work to rescue frightened baby birds who had fallen out of their nest onto the cement by his mailbox. The rattled expression left his face as I accepted the box and thanked him on behalf of earth’s critters.

Being a ‘bird nut’ once I opened the box and realized it was 4 juvenile baby robins; must admit the image I got of his rescue gave me a lot of good-natured laughs the rest of the day. At this stage of development, they can’t fly but are expert at hopping especially fast! It totally explained his dishevelment.

Back to the important mission. First examination is to tell if any needed immediate medical care that shelter and food won’t provide. Three of the babies were exercising their discontent at the situation with loud chirping and beaks open for breakfast. One lay quietly on his face. To shorten a detailed accounting of getting all four babies examined and settled, the tale moves on many months later to the two who survived the fall. Meatloaf and Rubin.

So goes their journey…

Feathered baby birds still require frequent and timely feedling during the day and a sturcture providing warnth, security and space enough to test their wings while growing. The three babies who at first inspection were sound and aparently not physically injured, were housed in a separte box from the little one who could not move very well. I named him Rubin and he was constructed a small enclousure by himself so the more active babies could not injure him further. Two of the four did not do well and in time and passed, I imageined from internal injuries. Meatloaf and Rubin continued.

Rubin suffered serious injuries and needed special care. His legs didn’t work very well, and he couldn’t stand too long by himself. The veterinarian consulted said I could try and see if his condition would improve, but to acknowledge he may not. I built a sling for him on wheels so he could be near his nest mates’ activities, feel their presence and move around on wood floors. Rubin lived for many months but not as a happy camper. He lost energy and will, and the kindness he needed was to put him to sleep. I agreed but it made me sad.

Meatloaf was named after Meatloaf the singer, specifically a line from ‘Bat out of Hell’ – “I gotta get out…I gotta get out now before the crack of dawn”. Meatloaf established his feisty personality early on as a breakout artist from his early enclosures. He chirped the loudest, was least fearful of human touch and I swear he could look me straight in the eye and communicate ‘worm now”! Fact is, I was a frequent purchaser of large Styrofoam containers of a variety of worms at a neighboring 7-11 catering to the local fishing community. So many worms over the months I fed the babies and continued to feed Meatloaf that he was honored with his photo on the fridge door right alongside the fishermen with their catches.

The robins were first quarantined in a separate area but eventually moved into my dedicated pet room which also housed my hand raised parakeets. Little Blue, one I couldn’t bring myself to sell, became an avian Florance Nightingale and immediately took over care of Meatloaf. Little Blue would make his rounds daily to any resident he thought needed his attention, but Meatloaf became his ‘pet’ project. Sure, in the beginning Meatloaf was leery of the small scolding parakeet fussing over him and insisting on preening his feathers, but in time he became accustomed to the attention and allowed Little Blue’s kindness.

They became friends and resided in the same space until Meatloaf was ready to leave for his own adventure outside in the trees.

When Meatloaf’s feathers filled in completely, he flew from the training environment on the top deck of my home created for learning flight, into the trees behind the house. For many months he would fly out to the trees during the day exploring his new world then fly back to sleep on the deck. ‘Bird Nut’ assumed a whole other aspect of speculation when I could call him from the deck and he would fly over and enjoy a big fat juicy worm.

For two seasons Meatloaf would leave the backyard trees to explore further areas for longer periods of time. Just when I started thinking he left for good, I would wake up on a morning to an impatient and familiar robin pecking at the sliding glass door expecting me to serve up a worm. To this day when spring brings the robins back, Meatloaf is in my mind’s eye. I envision the family he may have had and wonder if any of the robins are his descendants. I like to think they are.

Most of the multitude of images taken of my adventures in bird raising and rescue were lost in the fire, and imperfections mar the few precious remaining ones I have. Nonetheless my memories of them are perfect.

Note:
I had the time and experience to tackle the task of seeing that the intensive care of newly hatched birds or injured animals was supplied. I knew it would be messy, frustrating, sometimes sad, but joyful too.

It demanded my dedicated attention to each critter’s fundamental requirements for healthy progressive growth.  Responsibility taken for the life of any wild creature should be accepted with much thought, research and personal knowledge that you will stay consistent with their care.

-Leika