Hello. My name is Frederick. I'm a baby house sparrow. I'm just so gosh darn cute and tiny. But see how my feathers look a little ratty? All clumped together? That's saliva. Cat saliva.
Last night I was minding my own bidness, just sitting around with my peeps in the hood and wondering how much longer 'til these darn wings become functional. We weren't bothering anyone. Sure, there may have been a little hooch being passed around, but we were being quiet about it. No worries, mon. Anyway, next thing I know, I'm flying, and I mean really flying. At first I thought Tweety B. had maybe tucked a little something extra into the package we were smoking--if you know what I mean--and I was just tripping on it. But no, I heard the screams of my pals and I knew something was wrong. So I looked around, and holy shit, man, next thing I know I'm looking straight into a pair of slanted eyes that have murder shining through them. It was not cool.
Luck was with me, though, and before I got turned into an appetizer some really big guy made the fanged beast drop me. Suddenly a whole group of humans were fussing over me, petting my head and tsk-tsking at the big furry thing. I won't deny it, I was scared. I couldn't help but notice that my fair-feathered friends had gone quiet; I guess they saw me as their object lesson and didn't want to end up in the same boat. What a bunch of chickens. I was starting to freak--I mean really freak--because some of the humans were saying that the big guy should just put me down and leave me there. HELLO??!! I'm a defenseless baby bird, folks!! See the cat?? Bad kitty! Keep the cute baby bird from the bad kitty!
I guess my planets were in alignment because just then a lady peered down at me and said she'd take me. Take me where, I didn't know, but I was happy to go wherever that cat wasn't. By now the shock was wearing off and I had started to realize that something was wrong with my left wing. It didn't feel right and I couldn't stretch it out like I could my right one. So she put me in a box, made some cooing noises at me, and took me home with her.
I spent all night by myself in the box; it was scary, but I had a funny sense that there were more of those cats lurking around so I didn't buck it. I didn't sleep well, but I did make a big poopy and the lady seemed happy about that. This morning she took me and put me back in her car--good Lord, do you people realize how loud and stinky those things are?!--and seemed really excited that I was still alive. On the way, we picked up another lady, a really pretty one named Freak, and she held my box in her lap. I kept wishing she'd pull back my binky and pet my head, but all she wanted to do was talk about movies with the one who was driving. Humans are so frickin' narcissistic.
After 20 minutes and a gazillion bumps in the road, we finally arrived at my new home, at least for now. I have to admit it's really lovely. There are lots of trees and I can hear birds singing. It seems sort of like my old home. The two ladies took me inside where my name was changed to No. 488 and I was quickly whisked into the back. I could hear one of the ladies yelling, "No, it's Frederick," behind me, but they sounded so much alike that I honestly couldn't tell you which one it was.
So now I live at the Wildlife Rehabilitation, Inc. right next to the Nature Center. I miss my nest-pals, even though they pretty much dropped me like a bag of coke at a DWI check point at the first sign of trouble, but I'm making new friends. It's okay.
Here's a peep-out to everyone who helped me yesterday. And for all of you, if you see a cat, step on its head. Do it for Frederick.
After 20 minutes and a gazillion bumps in the road, we finally arrived at my new home, at least for now. I have to admit it's really lovely. There are lots of trees and I can hear birds singing. It seems sort of like my old home. The two ladies took me inside where my name was changed to No. 488 and I was quickly whisked into the back. I could hear one of the ladies yelling, "No, it's Frederick," behind me, but they sounded so much alike that I honestly couldn't tell you which one it was.
So now I live at the Wildlife Rehabilitation, Inc. right next to the Nature Center. I miss my nest-pals, even though they pretty much dropped me like a bag of coke at a DWI check point at the first sign of trouble, but I'm making new friends. It's okay.
Here's a peep-out to everyone who helped me yesterday. And for all of you, if you see a cat, step on its head. Do it for Frederick.
6 comments:
Hon' as the owner of a Shar-pit with the prey drive of a pack of primeval wolves, I feel your pain ("Ivan, put DOWN the baby bunny!"). It's what half wild things do.
So, was it Max? Somehow, I get the feeling it was that big bad squishy boy. But you saved the day for baby house sparrow and Jesus loves you for it.
Nice save, Saint Francine! and some good pics. Was it your balcony? FiFi...
It was actually my nephew's cat. It happened during a barbecue at his house.
Fi Fi got the taste of bird blood on her lips last summer, but hasn't been so lucky since. Max, well...Max is a lover, not a hunter. Had he been left in the wild to survive, he would have had to hook up with some big-hearted huntress who would have gladly shared her kill with him just to be near his goodness.
Ah. So Max only LOOKS dangerous. That heft of his, and all.
I think I'm in love with Fredrick.... I've been catching up on you.... I'm lovin what I see. Maybe you'll even get (one of my) funniest blogger vote(s). Oh you know you will!
:)
Unfortunately House Sparrows are a non-native species that are largely responsible for wiping out the beautiful native Bluebirds in America. If you want to see what sort of evil things House Sparrows do, google House Sparrow or HOSP.. After some reading, you'll realize you won't want to rescue this bird.
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