|Posted by Nikki Yeager on May 15, 2011 at 8:26 PM|
Today I became a bird owner. For about 6 hours.
I was so excited to write a blog tonight about how I'd heroically saved a little birdy's life. How Daniel and I lovingly nursed that little sparrow to health. We even named him Chirpy.
We were walking down the street by Staple's when I first noticed him - a little brown and gray bird flailing on the sidewalk. I stopped dead in my tracks and immediately fell in love. One of his wings was bent in a painful angle and his right leg laid in a semi-strange position. He rolled around and tried to get away, but he clearly couldn't.
Without thinking, I wailed "We need to save him!" and Daniel looked at me like I was nuts. Which, I'll admit, I certainly can be.
But I cannot leave a little baby bird on the sidewalk to starve with nothing but a broken wing to keep him company.
So I grabbed my scarf out of my bag and decided to pick up my newly dubbed Chirpy. Daniel managed to hold him while directing me to find somewhere to take him. Of course, on a Sunday afternoon nearly every Vet is closed.
With Chirpy asleep in the scarf, we ran all over Brooklyn trying to find someone to help. We stopped at a Vet's office who was closed and banged on the door (someone answered). We asked the receptionist to help but she couldn't do anything except give us her warmest thoughts and recommend another office. The other office was already locked by the time we got there. And little Chirpy seemed to be getting less and less active.
Finally we broke down and decided to ask our pet store. I walked in without much hope and asked the guy behind the counter, "Do you have any bird people here?"
With the help of 4 employees we managed to purchase some baby bird food to hand feed little chirpy and got plenty of recommendations on how to nurse him back to health. The one guy wished us luck and commented, "Once he gets some food he should start being more active right away!"
I had renewed faith in our ability to heal a bird and Daniel started to imagine having a little birdy pet for the rest of our lives as we calmly carried Chirpy to his new abode.
We mixed the food, made a little bird home out of a cardboard box and my already contaminated scarf and fed him with a tiny eyedropper. Immediately the bird perked up. Chirpy starting doing his best to walk around. He rolled a little, he opened his mouth for more.
We thought everything was ok.
Until a few hours later when we decided to feed him a little bit more. We opened the box to find something much less happy than a recovering bird. He no longer moved when you touched him. He didn't care about food. The most he could muster was a single movement that resembled a yawn.
An hour later my new pet bird passed away.
And it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but while I was scrubbing my hands with soap and sanitizing the windowsill, I couldn't help but be completely unwound by the whole situation. I think I loved my little bird. For all of the 6 hours I owned him.