This morning my husband and I found a little bird under our feeders. I guess his mother brought him there to feed him, but he must have fallen from the tree above.
We picked him up gently and hoped that he was perhaps just a little stunned, but found a box and put some paper towels in it, and put him in it. We gingerly tried to see what was wrong, and suspected that he had broken one leg but thought perhaps still that he might be able to fly away after resting.
His eyes were wide open and he let out a little squawk now and again. We put some water in a dish and he did take a few sips now and again. It was obviously a baby starling, and while they are not the prettiest or gentlest of birds, we none- the- less felt sorry for his mishap. Every now and again we would check on him and still hoped for his recovery. I even checked online to see what we might do, and was going to try to give him some mushy food of some sort and went to check, but alas it looked like the little bird’s fight was over.
It’s strange perhaps to worry about one bird among the hundreds that come and go in our yard and to our feeders, but it saddened us anyway. We delight in watching all of them, and at this time of year we see the new little ones being fed and taught to eat by the mother and/or father birds.
This little bird told us, that he may not be the prettiest one of God’s creation, but he felt just as important as all the rest and maybe he would have said ‘thank you for caring about me anyway!