Broken Clouds, 20°C
# They look so innocent
We rescued a bird today. At least I hope so. A tiny, fluffy baby noisy mynah.
It shrieked frantically and hid under my chair while I grabbed the cats and struggled until I had them shut in the toilet.
My little boy was confused and anxious when I kept asking him to bring a spoon, or coin, or anything to lock the door, while Cherry and Pippy tried frantically to force themselves out to find their prey. He even resorted to his ultimate three year old anxiety, “I’m just going to wriggle.”
In the end, though, my brave boy brought my bag, and I used a coin to lock the door.
The little bird was motionless under my chair, it’s yellow beak open, and I thought the pathetic ball of fluff was already dead. When I gathered it up in a tea towel, I could see the towel tremble with its little heartbeat. So I carried it in one hand, held my boy’s hand with the other, and went to find a bush at the edge of a nearby vineyard.
When I unwrapped the little bird, it looked at us with bright, wary black eyes, and tried to burrow back into the tea towel. I gently tipped it out and it hopped further into cover, no longer in shock or feigning death.
“It looks so happy! It’s so cute!” said the little boy.
Maybe it will die anyway. I have no way of telling how hurt the little baby was. Maybe it is too easy prey. But we did our best for the poor, foolish thing that ventured into our yard. Usually only magpies and piping shrikes come in, to deliberately tease and taunt.
The cat beasts are sulking.