A tiny little baby bird is sleeping in our bathroom tonight.
Well, at least we hope it’s sleeping. How did it get there?
We were trying to fix the pool-cleaner this evening, when there was a frantic fluttering of wings near the compost heap, accompanied by a chorus of high pitched twittering and tweeting. Tuffy-cat, who had been lazily cleaning herself near the catnip, raced over to the compost heap in a flash.
The twittering and chirping increased in intensity and volume, and about 10 seconds later, Tuffy emerged from the bushes with something in her mouth. I realised it must have been a bird, so I yelled for hubby, who emerged from the wendy house rather startled. He raced after Tuffy, at whom I was still yelling “Let it go! Tuffy! Let it go!”
I saw two little birds dive-bombing both of them, twittering frenetically. It must have been mommy and daddy panicking!
Miraculously, hubby caught hold of Tuffy, who dropped the baby bird, but when hubby tried to pick it up, it fluttered a little bit away, and Tuffy caught hold of it again. She was about to sprint away once more, but what with me yelling and the two parent birds still flying around, she dropped it again, so hubby could cradle it safely in his hands.
We looked at each other, still in shock at what our usually so lethargic and mild-mannered cat had done.
Then I fetched an empty shoe box from the cupboard, put in a brick to keep it from flying off in the blustery south-easter, added a handful of bird seed, and a little saucer of water. Richard gently placed the shivering little bird into the box and held it out of Tuffy’s reach. We didn’t know which nest it had fallen out of, but it was clearly not quite ready to fly. And we definitely didn’t want to put it into the wrong nest, in case the parents couldn’t find it.
We eventually left it on top of the wendy house, near to the compost heap where Tuffy had caught it. Hopefully it would start tweeting for its mommy and daddy soon. We decided to give it half an hour, and kept an eye on the wendy house.
As Mommy and Daddy didn’t appear, though, and because the wendy house is often used as a tanning salon by the neighbourhood cats – and because the wind was seriously blustery, we eventually brought the little one inside our house.
We have no idea how or what to feed it though. The poor thing is clearly too little to eat seeds – not even when they’re soaked and softened in hot water.
Which is why it’s now in the bathroom… hopefully recovering from the terror of being caught and hopefully not too frightened by the unfamiliar sounds in our house.
God, I so hope it survives the night, so that we can phone the vet for advice.
Please send happy healing thoughts of comfort to the little one!