That is a big pine tree right at the bottom of the steps that lead into the backyard. Who uses these steps countless times a day (and night)?
Emma and Tara, the Brittanys from Brit Knitter-ville. What are Brittanys? BIRD DOGS! Stupid Mourning Doves. They are "stupid" with two "o"s! The inevitable happened (again) this year, with a baby bird falling out of its nest the other day.
I was running around like crazy trying to keep the dogs away from the area while looking for a safe place for the dumb bird. Of course, I ran into the house to get my camera. (This is great blog fodder!) With very little time before I had to leave for work, I settled the bird in a nice quiet spot under the rabbit pen, about 12 feet from the tree, but on the outside of the fenced in yard. (Stupid bird.) That way, his momma would hopefully find him. (Stupid bird.)
My sister came home from work that night, and found the little critter, and pointed out to me that the straw under the rabbit pen is a favorite hang-out of this big boy:
That is Joseph-the-Stray-Cat doing his famous impression of a Buddha. Frankly, I'm surprised the (stupid) bird survived the day while I was at work. Joseph must be a little off of his game. Anyway, we decided to put the (stupid) bird into an old hanging planter lined with pine needles... and hang it in the tree, close to his original nest.I figured that was the most we could do, since we couldn't get high enough into the tree to put him back in his nest, and the (stupid) bird would probably fall out again, anyway. Sure, I could have taken him in the house and kept him in a shoebox lined with strips of flannel and fed him every hour through an eye dropper, and nursed him back to health. As much as I hate to admit it, I was just not going to do it. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for protecting the fellow inhabitants of our planet. I would never intentionally harm (much less eat) one. I'll put forth a reasonable amount of effort to save a little helpless creature, but this is a (stupid) bird we're talking about here. A Mourning Dove, no less, and it is a well-known fact that of all of the wild birds out there, the Mourning Dove is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, so to speak.
Well, since we put the little fella in the planter and hung it in the tree on Tuesday night, I've been wondering how he is doing. I mean, he could starve to death or dehydrate or something if his momma doesn't find him. What about snakes? What about squirrels? They would probably think that my sweet little baby Dudley the Dovey (that's his name) is a tasty treat! Well, I can't honestly say I have lost any sleep over Dudley, but I have been wondering if he is OK. Today when I went home at lunchtime to let the dogs out, I checked on the planter, and look what I found:
That thing that you can't tell what it is, is Dudley's momma's tail! She found her little boy, and is taking very good care of him. What a relief!
(Now what am I going to do with the shoe box lined with flannel strips and an eye dropper?)