A couple days ago, as we sat outside in the evening, we noticed a small bird flitting down to the ground repeatedly under the big pine tree in our backyard. Looking more closely, I saw a tiny bit of a baby bird trying to move through the grass. Fallen out of the nest?
I got a small table and a cardboard box to put it in, so it could be safe from dogs. I carefully avoided touching it. We didn’t see if the parent bird found it.
I went out the next morning, saw a blue-gray lump under one of the leaves, and fully expected it to be dead. I gently touched it with a leaf, and it jumped up and flitted to the other side of the box, making as much noise as it possibly could.
In the afternoon it was gone. We looked all around in the yard with no luck. No sign of anything. In the evening, again sitting in the backyard, we noticed the dog jump back from under the lemon tree as something abruptly moved. Guess who?
So back in the box. Parent bird located it. I watched the parent bird fly out of the box into the lemon tree, followed by a little grayish blur. The light was fading, but the little one had definitely left the box. Again.
No sign of it this morning. Until…
…after working a bit on the barbacoa ceiling, Daniel came into my office, hands cupped together holding – you guessed it. The baby bird had somehow gotten onto the barbacoa roof and then fell off.
So again into the box on the little table near the lemon tree. Little guy was having none of that. Out!
“Don’t even think about it again, human!”
So there he is, hanging out in the lemon tree, a tiny fluff ball, able to fly level a few meters and to get to a higher spot in the tree. Quite the feisty thing. Now I don’t know if he fell out of the nest to begin with, or not. Might have just decided to go for it?
I haven’t gotten a close enough look at the padre to ID the type.
Photos: Daniel Silva
