We had a particularly violent thunderstorm roll over us this afternoon and when I went out later in the evening to do chores and pick up all of the downed tree branches, I found the remnants of a nest....and then I found the babies scattered about. I thought they were all dead, which always makes me sad to see. Poor little featherless things. I started picking up the little bodies to dispose of, thinking they were all dead...and one moved.
One was dead for sure, another I wasn't so sure about and two more had the faintest of movements. They were all ice cold.
Poor little things.
So I grabbed the 3, ran into the house, bundled them in a hand-towel, warmed another one in the microwave and bundled the warm towel around them.
I have this 'thing' I guess, I hate to see anything die cold and miserable. I doubted any of them would survive, but at least they would be warm when they died.
Is it weird to think that way?
Well, the one did not warm up. He was dead.
But, at this moment, I have two little cheepers, bundled in their towel, quietly cheeping in their sleep.
Now what the heck do I do with them?...
Ya know...this is how we got stuck with a crazy-ass squirrel as a 'pet'. Now I have to figure out how/what to feed two tiny little birds?
Any one know?
The freaking veterinarian is going to think I am crazy as hell when I go in and ask him what to feed helpless baby birds.
Crap! Double Crap!!