A little ways outside our motel room was a tiny baby bird, apparently uninjured but out of the nest. As we were trying to keep it warm and wondering what to do, the motel’s owner came by and shared our concern. (We could hold it and breathe on it to keep it warm; people used to say that if humans touched a baby the parents would reject it, but I’ve been assured that’s not true.) The motel owner thought she knew where the nest was, and we could hear the cheeping of other birds overhead, so she went to get a stepladder. Then she said, “You ladies will have to hold it steady for me,” and climbed up to the second rung from the top (I don’t know if I could have done it, even for the sake of a baby bird). I handed up the nestling and she took it so gently and put it into the nest. She reported that there were two other babies there.
Mookie is elated that we helped save a baby bird. Now she is telling the whole story of Flappy Flappy, as she named it, to her stuffies.
I hope the parents are close by and that all the nestlings will be okay. I’m feeling grateful for kind hearts, like my wife’s and the motel owner’s, who think a baby bird is worth our trouble. And for brave ones, like Mookie’s, who stayed outside in the dark to guard the bird while Joy went looking for something to help with. And for the love between mamas and babies, in families and between species.