Tuesday evening coming home revealed a most fore lone looking tiny chick huddled against the front step. Evidently it had somehow fallen from a Chickadee nest located in the top of the down spout, where it’s missing a piece of pipe and open. This would have been a two story fall, but immediately underneath it is a wood chip-filled planter, probably padding its fall. It was still pretty small, and despite having an early covering of feathers was clearly too young to have fledged.
Having a bad feeling about its chances, and not knowing what else to do, I placed it in the planter area where it would be somewhat confined, and hoped the parents would be willing to feed it on the ground. Part of me knew this would not end well, and I tried to keep it out of my mind, hoping, perhaps, that it would simply have disappeared next time I went outside. When Stephanie saw the bird she was immediately concerned, asking if there was anything we could do. Even if we had proper equipment; a heating pad, eyedroppers, etc., the odds were pretty slim we would do anything except prolong the inevitable. I didn’t expect the orphan to last the night.
The next day, the tiny creature had not only made it through the night, but was now joined by one of its siblings. Were these the victims of an overcrowded nest - being the weakest and pushed out - or was there a cuckoo at work above in the drainpipe? Throughout the day the newcomer seemed rather lively, and at least once I witnessed it attracting the attention of its parents, raising hopes as to their outcome.
As evening arrived, it was clear things were rapidly going downhill. The newcomer had lost it’s apparent energy, and now was laying on its side, only capable of labored breathing, while the original chick was huddled nearby, not looking much better. Stephanie wanted to know what we could do. I wished there was something.
An hour or two later after dark, the newcomer had expired, and the other was nearly there. Holding it in my hand, its breathing was in slow, staggered bouts. Tired of having to watch the tiny bundle laboring towards an inevitable conclusion, I put my fingers over its nostrils until I stopped feeling a heartbeat. It offered no protest.
We buried them in a small hole under a rock in the front yard, just in front of where they were discovered. Unfortunately, the parents still seem to have chicks in the nest; hopefully that’s where they will stay.
