We have a nest of robins in our drainpipe. We have been hearing the babies chirping away at top volume for a couple weeks now. Two days ago Rob spotted a baby robin on the ground below the drainpipe. When we tried to get a look at him he ran behind a wood pile.
The girls, of course, wanted to rescue him. We convinced them that the best thing to do was to leave him alone and the momma bird would take care of him. . .
Have you ever heard that Regina Spektor song "That Time"? Part of it goes like this:
Hey remember that time
I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing
A street cat got him by morning and I had to bury pieces
Of his body in our building's playground
I thought I was gonna be sick
I thought I was gonna be sick
We don't have a cat.
Wendell is our neighbor's cat.
Hannah found him, surrounded by a wide circle of baby feathers. We had a funeral and buried the little bird. Hannah cried.
I let her watch two hours of mindless TV to take her mind off of it. Does that make up for not climbing up there and putting the bird back like she wanted to two days ago? I don't know, but it seems to be working.
2 comments:
Wendell is on a killing rampage! I was told that he got a mole, a bird & 2 mice in one day!
Poor little creatures!
it's one thing to WATCH nature shows, and another to be in the middle of one! so sorry for your daughter....and the bird!
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