I was sitting here at my desk, thinking about the Circus of the Spineless (of which I'll remind you again later*), when a
I dashed out to rescue him; he was lying on his side, not moving, but when I picked him up, he was still breathing. His eyes were closed, his beak open. I brought him inside to the warmth, and wrapped him in the first thing that came to hand, paper towels.
He moved slightly, and I peeked. His head was bent back, towards the right side, but the right eye was open. When I put him down, he struggled to stand upright, but kept his head twisted. He didn't seem to notice me, a few inches away.
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| A soundless distress call |
In case of accident ... well, for humans, they say to guard against shock; keep them warm. So I got a big plastic bowl and made a nest out of a towel in it, then gently put the thrush inside and covered him up. And sat there with him on my lap while I played a few rounds of Solitaire. Something mindless, to keep me from disturbing him from sheer impatience.
After about ten minutes, I put a hand on the top of the towel. Immediately, the thrush started to thrash about and call frantically, so I took the bowl to the open door, and lifted the corner of the towel. He jumped out and stood, teetering on the sill.
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| The left eye is still closed, the beak open, but he's silent again. |
Five more minutes, and he opened the other eye, hopped to the ground, then flew a few feet to a clump of potted plants ...
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| Feathery bird on rusty bird. |
... where he sat. He watched me, but didn't mind me moving about, taking photos. After a while, worried about him getting cold, I touched his back, and he roused himself and flew into the shrubbery. 15 minutes later, he was gone. Good! I hope he got over the headache soon and completely.
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| Still on the rusty bird, against a flower pot patterned by snails eating algae. |
Every now and then one of the chickadees brushes my window; not too hard, and they recover almost instantly. This is the first bird that has really knocked himself out for several years. I wish there were none. But how do you keep them from doing this? I've tried a few suggestions, like painting lines on the window, screening (They bump the screen and the glass, too, just not as hard.), or cross-hatching the danger zones with sticky tape. Nothing really works.
Any ideas? What do you do?
*About Circus of the Spineless: tonight, midnight, Pacific Coast time, is the deadline for submissions to the October edition. You may e-mail your invertebrate posts to me, wanderinweeta AT gmail DOT com, or send me the link on Twitter @wanderinweeta.
