A bird died.
I think he would have died eventually, but we tried to prolong his life.
Tashi found him. Fallen from his nest near our strawberry patch. She alerted me with her sharp barking. He was huddled behind the fake plaster sculpture of a farie and a squirrel. A young sparrow, who looked more scared than hurt.
I put gloves on, and returned him to his home. Safe from the dogs, from the noise.
A few days later, I looked toward the cherry tree and the sparrows home, and saw him dangling from the entrance by a leg. Closer examination revealed that he was tied up, trapped among the strings they used for housing. Twine was wrapped tighly around his leg, and it was over extended, dangling him from the door of their old wooden home.
Shawna and I took down the home, and pried off the roof to try and save him. His foot was grossly engorged with blood, the twine having pulled tight on it, and cutting off the blood. With gloves, tweezers, needle nose pliers and a small scissors, we did the best to remove the baby sparrow from his entangled nest. After 20 minutes of careful trimming, he was free. With a syringe provided from the vet for our puppies, we fed him some water, which he drank happily.
The bird house was replaced in the tree, and we tried to replace the bird as well. With limited success. Our rebuild of the house, had made it impossible for the young sparrow to turn around. Having a damaged wing already, as well as a very traumatic day, he sat, unmoving, with his tailfeathers out the opening.
I knew I could not leave this poor bird like this, so we took down the birdhouse again, removed the electrical tape and duct tape that was holding it together, and popped out the poor little sparrow yet again. All in a hope of saving him. We had a new birdhouse inside, that we took some of the nesting materials from the old house, and attempted to make the most comfortable transplant possible.
The young sparrow sat still for the first few moments in his new home. Then showed signs of life as we hung the new house back into our cherry tree. In his new bird house. And we went to bed, feeling satisfied he would be ok.
The next day, i thought i saw his leg hanging out of the new house. After a few hours of it not moving, I went out to investigate.
What I thought was his leg was his head. His brain and skull destroyed and eaten from the back. What I thought were toes hanging was his face, his leg; severed neck muscles.
I did this to him. Changing the bird house, made it open again for competition. New sparrows, I think possibly even related, came in to check the new house. In it, they found this tramautized and weaked sparrow. Whom they murdered and displayed to claim the new house as their own.
This I do not know for sure. It is possible another bird flew into the new house, and killed him. Or his own parents realized he was unable to fly, and rather than let him die slowly, destroyed his head. But I can’t imagine that.
I killed this poor bird, by trying to save him, but not understanding how his kind lived.
I took him in my hands, helped him, tried to comfort him. I took some of his home, and tried to create a new home for him. I build a new place for him to stay, in safety to heal.
And then I left him.
The next time I saw him , he was murdered by his own kind.
Sounds too much like our war on Iraq for comfort.
You cannot help people you do not know.