Lost Mockingbird Chick

Yesterday afternoon Ruby the Corgi Pup shot across the side yard and GRABBED something! O doggie joy!

It was a baby mockingbird, just starting to fledge but not big enough to fly yet. When I hollered, Ruby dropped the little chick.

At first it looked like her wing was broken, but in short order she had it back in place and was able to move it normally. Other than being terrorized, she seemed fine.

Ruby back in the house. Lock Ruby and Cassie indoors.

I figured the best thing to do was to leave Chick outside where she was sheltering in the shade and CHIRK-ing for her mother. Usually with wild things, it’s best to let nature take its course. Probably (I hoped) she could fly well enough to make her way back into a tree and from there to find her nest.

But no.

A couple of hours later, the mother bird was CHIRK-ing from the lime tree, trying to lure her babe back home. The babe was CHIRK-ing from the ground but making no effort to move.

Half an hour before closing time, I called Liberty Wildlife, a wildlife rescue group. Unfortunately they no longer come by to help save critters in predicaments — some years ago they rescued a hummingbird that flew into the house and decided the only exit was through a skylight (unopenable). But the recession threw them into a permanent tailspin, and they no longer have the resources to do that. The woman I spoke with referred me to another woman, who referred me to another woman.

While these worthies were on the phone, I asked them about the care and feeding of DUCK and her progeny. All three said that baby ducks routinely drown in swimming pools, because they can’t make it from the surface of the water over the coping to the ground. The third woman, who eventually took Chick, said I should gather up the eggs and bring them to her, and she would put them in an incubator.

Welp. In the first place, it’s against the law to mess with a wild mallard’s nest. In the second place, I don’t want to mess with DUCK’s nest. And in the third place, the third woman I spoke with sounded…well, kind of nutty.

And yea verily, when I arrived at her house with CHICK, she proved to be…well, kind of nutty. Their house, in a down-at-the-heels “arty” section of North Phoenix, had been transformed into a kind of aviary and wild-mammal kennel. When I say “nutty” here, I mean seriously nutty.

However, the strange woman quickly made it obvious that she was very knowledgeable about wild birds. And in fact, she proved to be a kind of Mockingbird Whisperer. As soon as she picked up the terrorized little bird and stroked it under its birdie chin, it relaxed, closed its eyes, and looked as if it would purr if only it could figure out how.

One glance at Chick and she exclaimed, “Oh, you have pox on your eyes!” When I asked what that meant, she pointed out the wart-like growths over the bird’s upper eyelids. Hm.

Soon as I got home, I called up the Hypochondriac’s Treasure Chest. And indeed, avian pox or a bacterial infection with similar symptoms was probably what ailed Chick. Pox can infect a bird’s throat and innards. So it’s possible that the little bird was on the ground because it was sick and was going to die anyway.

{sigh}

The eccentric bird rescuer said she would dose Chick with antibiotics, and maybe the bird would recover. She said she’d raised many mockingbirds.

By the time I got home, the mother mockingbird was gone.

Meanwhile, we have the problem of the drownable ducklings. More to come on that, after I figure out what to do about it…