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Christian and Scott were fishing offshore some time in the middle of June, and Jackson and I were lounging around in the pool. All of a sudden, we heard a splash. We looked over and saw this little flutter-butt flailing around in the pool with us. I figured he would take a dip and fly away, but he looked like he was struggling. I got something to scoop him out, which really freaked him out, and he ended up in the skimmer with the rest of the scary spiders. Finally, I just scooped him up in my hand and put him on a low branch in my jasmine. I could tell something wasn’t right with him, so I moved him into a more protected abandoned nest. We stayed out there awhile keeping an eye on him, but finally our fingers and toes were so shriveled, we went inside. We came back every hour or so to check on him, and the first time he was gone. We looked around a minute, then just figured he had recovered and flown away. We headed back to the house, and he hopped out and followed us. He couldn’t fly. We checked on him again, and again thought he had flown away, until we headed for the house and he hopped out behind us again. It started getting dark, and Jackson and I were worried. We know what kind of animals lurk in our backyard, and how much they would enjoy snacking on a helpless baby bird. We brought him on the back porch. Jackson got him some bugs, worms and water, and he started acting normal. I thought maybe we saved him. .jpg "20130615_6398 copy")
We figured it was only a matter of days before he would be flying, and we’d just let him go. The boys fell in love. As much as I’m not into birds, so did I. Scott had raised a baby mockingbird years ago. He took the boys to get worms, and helped us look after him. I didn’t ask, but I could tell, he was digging the bird, too..jpg "20130615_6413 copy")
For a couple of days, our lives revolved around this bird. We wouldn’t go anywhere because he might need to eat. .jpg "20130615_6415 copy")
Even Lulu was interested. She just wanted to sniff. I knew better than to let Fergie out, she’s our hunter. The bird would perch on the furniture at night and sleep. The last night, he just got in the corner on a towel, and seemed to be falling asleep. He’d open his eyes to check us out, but he seemed tired. The next morning, Christian and Scott found him right there on his side. I’m not sure if he was sick all along, or if all the germs from us was too much, but we were really sad. How in the world did we get so attached to a little bird over the course of a few days? We buried him on the hill with Dixie and Ollie. The next day, Scott power washed the bird shit off the back porch while we watched with heavy hearts. THE END. .jpg "20130616_6419 copy")
