Chirpy little Edgar approached me in the parking lot behind Grocott’s on Friday. “Cheep-cheep,” said the brown-and-butter coloured fledgling who didn’t seem to be roaming around under any kind of parental supervision.
Chirpy little Edgar approached me in the parking lot behind Grocott’s on Friday. “Cheep-cheep,” said the brown-and-butter coloured fledgling who didn’t seem to be roaming around under any kind of parental supervision.
Immediately I understood his cry for help. “If I’m still looking lost and homeless by the end of the work day you should totally adopt me,” is what he meant.
I gave him until 4.30pm to grow up and show that he could fend for himself.
I know most people who know anything about wild birds would probably disagree that taking him was a good idea, but I couldn't just leave him there to get driven over or eaten by a stray dog or cat.
And besides feeling general pity for little critters like this, before Edgar my maternal instincts had been dormant, (considered extinct in fact), so when my empty womb demanded that I do something, I didn’t ask any questions.
Yes, I could have just let nature take its course, but I wasn’t going to challenge a decision made by a hormonally-charged female. Not even myself.
People can get hurt doing that.
So I spent some time asking the all-knowing, omnipresent centre of the universe, the Big G (Google), how to feed this little critter.
A formula of mashed boiled egg and digestive biscuits was made, but Edgar, like many tots, was a fussy eater.
He didn’t take well to the syringe-fed formula, but did drink some water that I fed him, mama-bird style. (If you don’t know how most mama-birds feed their young then go ask the Big G, it’s a bit gross for some humans to stomach).
The next day Edgar once again showed me a preview of real motherhood: no Saturday morning lie-ins. Long before my alarm was due to go off I was cheep-cheeped awake and in my freshly-conscious fog he must have said something like: “feed me, woman! What kind of service is this?”
I, thankfully, know some folk in the worm farming business so when Edgar wasn’t eating my lovingly-prepared mash-up. I called on them to supply some earthworms to eat.
And once that little beak had a taste of the wriggly good stuff, I could at least rest assured that he wouldn’t starve.
Over the course of the day, and probably thanks to the regular wriggling snacks, I like to think that Edgar started to believe I was his mama-bird.
He took naps in a scarf around my neck and would constantly chirp when I wasn’t in sight. When I was nearby and chirped back you should have seen the way he got worked up until I came into view.
Watching Edgar eat some of the longer worms was also quite entertaining.
By the looks of it he wasn't aware that some were only half-swallowed and got a fright when his snack started slithering across his face!
I happened to have a lunch guest over who has plenty experience raising abandoned birds and she said Edgar’s chances of survival were good. I had also found a keen babysitter.
Next I would have to start teaching Edgar how to fly, she said.
But dearest little Edgar, who was actually a female amethyst sunbird according to a friend’s dad’s birding book, was never going to learn how to fly.
When I was not woken up by the sounds of a hungry worm terrorist on Sunday morning I first felt relieved to enjoy a full night’s sleep.
Then the pessimist (or perhaps realist) in me feared the worst.
When I uncovered Edgar’s toilet paper and feather-lined night nest there was no movement or cheeping. Just a dead bird.
I hope I didn’t poison Edgar with the wrong kind of food or let him/her die from insufficient insulation at night, but I guess I only delayed the fate of a young bird who just wasn’t meant to live after leaving the nest.
Now I’m much more aware of the sounds of young birdies all around town at this time of year.
They will fondly remind me of my brief brush with inter-species motherhood. I never used to notice them before.
At first when I heard them cheeping outside my window I almost thought Edgar had somehow been revived and came looking for me, but that’s probably just my crazy-inducing womb talking again…
