I heard it and I’m hearing impaired in the opposite corner of our average bungalow. It’s a distinct sound, or we’ve heard it enough times that’s familiar. Not in a good way.

Our front picture window is 25-30′ parrallel opposite the rear deck sliding glass doors. It must look like a clear path to the average bird, until it’s not. Or just before their sonar tells them differently and too late.

They’re little ones, swallows, sparrows and chickadees that abound and nest in the several houses on the north side of the property. Some survive, some don’t. Some you hear, some you find in the front flower bed. Maybe one a summer. Maybe none but being here close to 20 years we know the sound.

It was after dinner and the deaf guy heard it from 30′ feet of hallways and doorways away. I didn’t investigate. “Jeff?”. I heard that too and knew what it was about. On the north side midway between the front and back of the house is a tall narrow window, about 2′ x 7′. It has a pressed flower piece on the sill and a wooden hummingbird mobile hanging above that about fills the window with six of the faux fowl. Tami is standing at the window and I know where she’s looking, and where I will too. Five feet directly below on the ground. One bird laying supine, not moving. “Paws up, won’t eat” goes the saying about how to ID a dead dog. This doesn’t look good. I wince in my facial expression and mind as I express it verbally . . . “you had to look” in wince-like tones was all I could manage As I headed for the deck doors.

Yep, one very still bird in a very unnatural state for any bird of any size or ilk. But this was a big one, about 8-10″ in length and a little less than half that in breath. I didn’t take a picture. I went to find a box. Seemed like the thing to do regardless of its actual state, plus it gave me something to do. A focus. That’s a welcome respite in times of distress, mine or others. “Boil water, tear sheets” comes to mind. What the hapless helpless males are told to do when the baby is arriving on the frontier or any other non-hospital environment.

When I returned the little thing was moving it’s head a bit. Alive. Broken or surely, at the least, severely stunned? I picked it up and put it in the box. Then I took a picture. I texted it to a friend that volunteers for an wildlife rehabilitation centre. On his days off he’s a picks up injured animals reported to the rehab centre. Sometimes he has to catch them too. Some other great stories there. While While awaiting his reply and the big little bird is moving a bit more but still very supine, I find and call the rehab center where I thought my friend volunteers. Open until 7pm. Voicemail. I gently roll the little thing out of the box, sitting on the deck table. It rolls off the table and onto the ground. Nice move big guy. Still semi-supine but with an arch to it’s back. Not a peep or coo or sound has been heard; but then again I’m hearing impaired remember?

A text from my bud! “Call this number, while they’re still open! Looks like a female Merlin Falcon”. This was a different number than the one I had left two voicemails with. Yes, I called again just to be sure and back to that “Something to do. Do something” thing. This time I raise a human and get advice. Why I hadn’t googled “what to do with a stunned, possibly broken back or neck bird?” is just an indication of my stress level and/or perhaps age. The lady from rehab tells me that if they’re moving or hopping about let them be. Mom will protect and feed them on the ground. Actually that second bit came from the first rehab centre voicemail that had a detailed directory with one option being “If this call is about a baby bird, please press 2”. It gave a brief primer on finding baby birds, with the current insight that it’s “flying lesson time” and what to do, and not. No mention of baby-bird-versus-window-at-high-speed-and-is-not-hopping-around. I listened to it both times.

So, we wait. Before Tami left for work she cautioned me about the neighbourhood cat contingent and well, you can guess what she was thinking. So, we wait, and defend against the myriad of cats that wander freely throughout the neighbourhood and our yard. I’m beginning to wonder if they can smell “bird down” like when my car was moused at it’s storage location and they couldn’t keep away when it showed up in the driveway. It was like a big (compared to cats, small as sportscars go) black German catnip fest out there for a couple days. I’m on the job little girl bird.

The reasoning behind trying to move her out of the box to the table top was

A, It looked rather coffin-like and quickly felt premature as she started to squirm a bit.

B, We knew they were nesting in the neighbours tree, “The hawks at Sue’s”. so Mom and Dad must be around; perhaps watching?

C, I’ve heard some stories of being in proximity of hawks (similar enough to is uninformed) nest and their aggressive behaviour. What of a wounded offspring? What are the risks there?

So, getting her out of the box and meaning to have her on the table top was so that she was clearly visible, elevated should she miraculously choose to fly, and somewhat of an obstacle for cats, though not so much as the broom I was clutching.

It looked like one foot was between two deck boards and that didn’t seem like a good thing, plus her posture was still making me uncomfortable. Plus I couldn’t see her very well from inside where she was laying. I went to roll her over and she flapped and fussed a bit. Good! I picked her up to a chair where she defaulted to the familiar semi-supine position with both claws clutching one wing; like she was trying to roll herself over? I puttered in the kitchen, keeping an eye on her. Not being able to help myself, I tried again to get her “upright”, at least with her belly down. Success!

Not knowing whether she would be mobile and/or gone before dark she may need a safe, cat-proof place for the night. I couldn’t picture anywhere within our house, garage or sheds that wouldn’t be confining should she get mobile or just generally frightening. I called Sue, she has a wire enclosed garden and it’s closer to the nest. She was working until nine and would come see us when she’s done. I was done in the kitchen and still on watch for another hour or so, so I made a bowl of popcorn and sat down in a chair opposite my guest.

I read that birds can sleep half their brain as a survival mechanism, or at least I imagined it, as one eye would slowly partially close, then flick open. None of the noises of the neighbourhood seemed to draw or change her attention. Still stunned or me expecting human reactions to natural sounds, dunno. She just sat, looking peaceful and content, as I imagine the brain-injured can and may do. It was a lovely summer evening and she was a beautiful bird.

In time she “sat up” and then pooped and then moved off her poop. I didn’t see the last two moves as I may have been making the same ones, but was encouraged by her mobility.

I tried to share some popcorn because that’s a help thing, no? Comfort, warmth, food, fluids? She was not interested or moving or interested in moving. Just sitting, recovering and obviously still too stunned or near-sighted to worry about the big possible predator presence or popcorn. I moved the popcorn closer. No difference. Then I thought the popcorn was ruining the photo op and in my OCD went to move it from where I had tossed it. Key proximity factor alert here. I had tossed it that close. Trying to retrieve it from that close . . . an entirely different situation. She flapped and moved and if jerky movement in simultaneous vertical and horizontal planes could be describes as a “hobble” that would be well applied, albeit a quick hobble at that. Down across the deck and down again to the grass she went. Crap! What damage did that do? Wait, great movement! Will she now hop about as per selection #2 of the voicemail wait line selection? Nope. Still just siting, on the grass, a little closer to home.

Sue and Julianna show up at the fence just aways away with the little Merlin between us but they can’t see her where she is nearly under a tree. As I make my way to chat she moves again. Looks like “hopping about” to me. We talk about a plan and Sue, a mother, suggests we get her nearer the nest tree where “Momma bird will keep all the cats away”. Just like selection #2 of the voicemail wait line selection said! I believe her. I’ve seen mama bears, hawks and humans in action. I would not mess with any of them. I had a towel at hand for whatever the next move would be so I approach. She can’t fly or hobble faster that I can move so the capture is easy. Though she instinctively fought it, once in hand there was no more movement or resistance. We walk her to Sue’s front yard and set her down. It’s dusk.

Sue says she can hear Momma calling. We all take pictures and leave, though Julianna says she’s nervous about her out here alone. I turn in for the night, emotionally exhausted but hopeful. I trust Sue’s knowledge and instinct. Earlier she told me that baby birds are trained to be quiet when they’re in danger or the folks aren’t around. That may explain why she made little if any noise throughout her visit. Then again her head was pretty rattled so maybe that faculty wasn’t available either. Still I wanted to believe the logical plan that within the parent’s range she would be the safest.

Tami wanted updates and I was happy to text her that last picture and that “She was hopping around a bit. Moved her to the base of their tree. Her Mom was out on a post in Sue’s driveway looking for her (the bird, not Sue, or Sue’s Mom, the Mom bird that is, looking for the baby bird, not Sue. Not Sue looking for, or being looked for, by any birds)

Shortly after, Sue texted me and I relayed it to Tami “Sue just went to camouflage her (the baby bird, not the Mom, bird that is) and she ( the baby bird, not Sue or Mom bird) flew up into the nest tree.

Tami replied “Excellent! that is great news! Although I’m disappointed Sue cannot fly. Probably has a head injury and over her shock. Thanks!”

Me “Sue was brain injured?”.

We’ve known about the hawks in Sue’s tree since they arrived and nested. We see the parents hunting and last week one returning with a field mouse or such in their clutches. They sat on the other neighbors’ roof peak for a bit before heading for the nest. We’ve often seen the parents coming and going, gliding the breezes as they hunt the adjacent fields but they’ve never come close to our lot except cutting the far corner when returning to the nest from the south east. A few days later we were sitting on the back deck for happy hour. One of the big birds flew low right over us.

Cheers!