Destiny and Duck eggs
November 16th 2011 13:44
On Sunday, I rescued a small bird from Teshan's water trough.
I had to work in the next hour, and was quickly doing an animal check and water top up before I went. I saw her spiralling in the water and thought she was dead, until I detected a faint flutter. I dived through the fence (in my uniform) narrowly missing barbed and electric wire. I snatched her up, returned to the house yard via a safe route and assessed her.
She was calm, delirious almost, which was to be expected. In shock. She was so, so tiny, I cant describe it - to say she was smaller than my thumb would not indicate properly to you her immense fragility. She was a common wren, very tiny, brown/grey feathers tinged with olive green, with a bit of red blush about her cheeks and beak. So little. Small wedges of skin on either side of her beak indicated that she had only left the nest maybe a week ago or less.
I held her, in the hot sun on the front porch, encouraged by her little shakes as she worked to dry herself. She was not as vigorous as I would have hoped, seemed dazed, slow even.
Knowing how quickly birds this small go through energy, and thinking of expanded effort and water chill, I asked Kman to bring me some honey. I fed her tiny drops off my finger and watched her lap them up appreciatively. She began to fluff her feathers and look around with a bit more focus.
I thought about how long it had been since I'd had a serious rescue. How I missed it, even the hassles of it. Like the 'bush telegraph' we joke about had advertised 'Hotel Kleo temporarily No Vacancy' for the first time ever, just while we sorted out problems and settled in the baby.
Watching her, I thought about fixing her a box where she could rest up a bit. She was too slow, I could see it. She just wasnt picking up as quickly as a wild bird should. I knew what I wanted to do. Keep her, ensure her life.
I knew there were risks in this. Small insect eaters like her are extremely hard to keep. Even with slow instincts in her community of wrens she would most likely live well.
She had begun to chirp, flutter, and flick her tail.
Then she saw me.
She visibly wilted - slid sideways into my palm and flopped into shock again. Right, I was decided. I was causing more harm then good, back to nature she would go. I positioned her so she could only see the freedom of the yard, and she fluttered up and was off. She didnt make it far, flopping down in the middle of the yard. I took a few steps to encourage her towards the thick weeds in Teshan's yard, and she obligingly fluttered into them.
The instant she hit the edge of the scrub a violently blue coloured male appeared as if from no where, cheeping fiercely. She tweeted back. Quite obviously a 'Where-the-hell-have-you-been' followed by a 'hell-if-I-know'
There was much tweeting and tail flicking, before they both disappeared into the weeds.
I was ecstatic. After not rescuing for so long, having a perfect event like that made my week. I was still excited about it this morning, and at lunchtime when I went out to fill the water.
Teshan's water.
I was watching the weeds, as I had so often over the last few days, thinking of the vibrant little community going on there I couldnt even see. I looked down to check the water level.
In a horrific kind of de'ja'vu I saw a little bird riding the whirpool. I think I screamed (my neighbors must think Im nuts at least ten times a day) and dived through the fence mumbling 'no.no.no.'
It was her. Well, no reason to think it was the same bird of course, but the same breed, same colours, same age. And this time I was too late, and not even by long. Her feathers werent completely soaked, she wasnt even chilled, just bloated, full of water. She seemed at peace even, unlike other birds I've pulled dead from the water trough who are frozen in horror.
She just seemed to be in a very confused state of sleep.
Hopeless stupid tears burst out of me and why why why was thrumming through my mind. Ridiculous, senseless, so avoidable, goddamn my human arrogance! I could have saved her, I could have saved her.
Knowing I would grope for reason my whole, dismal night, I escorted her to the 'graveyard' where a few of hours are buried. I wandered into the thick scrub and placed her in the undergrowth. No time to bury her, and no need in there.
As I made to move away a pacific black duck burst out of the undergrowth and flew away.
Strange, I thought, Why would she be here?No water. Not much food Lots of predators. Stupid place for a duck to be alone.
I made to leave, when an urgent voice in my mind whispered, check, please check.
I crept slowly through the grass. I knew what I was going to find. Without doubt. And I found it.
A nest. With 10 eggs.
I called Kman for his thoughts. Mine were really, not to be denied.
Last time I trusted nature (pretty much everytime) its failed me. There was only one way to ensure the survival of these babies. Take control of the situation!
Kman said, dont you dare take some poor mommy ducks eggs. Its not fair.
I reasoned, they are alone, in a bad place. Reptiles will eat them. If she manages to get them to pipping, magpies and other predators with eat them. This is not a duck friendly place unless you have a nice, safe, pen.
But Kmans words got to me, and I compromised and took half. Of course, now he's changed his mind and thinks I should have taken them all, and I wish I had - to encourage silly mother to move on if anything - but done is done. My 'nest' is set up, heat set and regulations ready.
Hopefully in the next month, I'll have some ducks to show for it.
As I left the area with my cardboard box full of precious cargo, I paused by the bush where I'd left my poor little wren. "Thankyou" I whispered to her, "Thankyou...."
I had to work in the next hour, and was quickly doing an animal check and water top up before I went. I saw her spiralling in the water and thought she was dead, until I detected a faint flutter. I dived through the fence (in my uniform) narrowly missing barbed and electric wire. I snatched her up, returned to the house yard via a safe route and assessed her.
She was calm, delirious almost, which was to be expected. In shock. She was so, so tiny, I cant describe it - to say she was smaller than my thumb would not indicate properly to you her immense fragility. She was a common wren, very tiny, brown/grey feathers tinged with olive green, with a bit of red blush about her cheeks and beak. So little. Small wedges of skin on either side of her beak indicated that she had only left the nest maybe a week ago or less.
I held her, in the hot sun on the front porch, encouraged by her little shakes as she worked to dry herself. She was not as vigorous as I would have hoped, seemed dazed, slow even.
Knowing how quickly birds this small go through energy, and thinking of expanded effort and water chill, I asked Kman to bring me some honey. I fed her tiny drops off my finger and watched her lap them up appreciatively. She began to fluff her feathers and look around with a bit more focus.
I thought about how long it had been since I'd had a serious rescue. How I missed it, even the hassles of it. Like the 'bush telegraph' we joke about had advertised 'Hotel Kleo temporarily No Vacancy' for the first time ever, just while we sorted out problems and settled in the baby.
Watching her, I thought about fixing her a box where she could rest up a bit. She was too slow, I could see it. She just wasnt picking up as quickly as a wild bird should. I knew what I wanted to do. Keep her, ensure her life.
I knew there were risks in this. Small insect eaters like her are extremely hard to keep. Even with slow instincts in her community of wrens she would most likely live well.
She had begun to chirp, flutter, and flick her tail.
Then she saw me.
She visibly wilted - slid sideways into my palm and flopped into shock again. Right, I was decided. I was causing more harm then good, back to nature she would go. I positioned her so she could only see the freedom of the yard, and she fluttered up and was off. She didnt make it far, flopping down in the middle of the yard. I took a few steps to encourage her towards the thick weeds in Teshan's yard, and she obligingly fluttered into them.
The instant she hit the edge of the scrub a violently blue coloured male appeared as if from no where, cheeping fiercely. She tweeted back. Quite obviously a 'Where-the-hell-have-you-been' followed by a 'hell-if-I-know'
There was much tweeting and tail flicking, before they both disappeared into the weeds.
I was ecstatic. After not rescuing for so long, having a perfect event like that made my week. I was still excited about it this morning, and at lunchtime when I went out to fill the water.
Teshan's water.
I was watching the weeds, as I had so often over the last few days, thinking of the vibrant little community going on there I couldnt even see. I looked down to check the water level.
In a horrific kind of de'ja'vu I saw a little bird riding the whirpool. I think I screamed (my neighbors must think Im nuts at least ten times a day) and dived through the fence mumbling 'no.no.no.'
It was her. Well, no reason to think it was the same bird of course, but the same breed, same colours, same age. And this time I was too late, and not even by long. Her feathers werent completely soaked, she wasnt even chilled, just bloated, full of water. She seemed at peace even, unlike other birds I've pulled dead from the water trough who are frozen in horror.
She just seemed to be in a very confused state of sleep.
Hopeless stupid tears burst out of me and why why why was thrumming through my mind. Ridiculous, senseless, so avoidable, goddamn my human arrogance! I could have saved her, I could have saved her.
Knowing I would grope for reason my whole, dismal night, I escorted her to the 'graveyard' where a few of hours are buried. I wandered into the thick scrub and placed her in the undergrowth. No time to bury her, and no need in there.
As I made to move away a pacific black duck burst out of the undergrowth and flew away.
Strange, I thought, Why would she be here?No water. Not much food Lots of predators. Stupid place for a duck to be alone.
I made to leave, when an urgent voice in my mind whispered, check, please check.
I crept slowly through the grass. I knew what I was going to find. Without doubt. And I found it.
A nest. With 10 eggs.
I called Kman for his thoughts. Mine were really, not to be denied.
Last time I trusted nature (pretty much everytime) its failed me. There was only one way to ensure the survival of these babies. Take control of the situation!
Kman said, dont you dare take some poor mommy ducks eggs. Its not fair.
I reasoned, they are alone, in a bad place. Reptiles will eat them. If she manages to get them to pipping, magpies and other predators with eat them. This is not a duck friendly place unless you have a nice, safe, pen.
But Kmans words got to me, and I compromised and took half. Of course, now he's changed his mind and thinks I should have taken them all, and I wish I had - to encourage silly mother to move on if anything - but done is done. My 'nest' is set up, heat set and regulations ready.
Hopefully in the next month, I'll have some ducks to show for it.
As I left the area with my cardboard box full of precious cargo, I paused by the bush where I'd left my poor little wren. "Thankyou" I whispered to her, "Thankyou...."
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