Close Encounter of the Cardinal Kind

Just before noon I opened the front door, thinking that it might be time to let my calico cat, Alice, back into the house. She had gone outside on a mission earlier that morning. Alice customarily returns home after exploring the environment and waits patiently, curled up on the stepping stones that lead up to the house, for her humans to let her back inside the comfy, air conditioned indoor space.

In addition to Alice relaxing in her usual location, I was surprised to find a not-so-relaxed little fluffy bundle on the doorstep. A small brownish baby bird stared up at me with the most intense expression on its young face, beady eyes concerned and unblinking. She sang a persistent rhythmic "chirp, chirp, chirp" as she peered up at me. My first thought was one of relief that Alice nor any other neighborhood cat had tried to snap up the little feathered morsel. My second thought was that I had to find a way to return this youngster to her parents.

My third thought was that I had no idea how to accomplish this task. As one experienced bird watcher blogged, finding a helpless and seemingly forlorn baby bird on the ground can cause even the most hardened cynic to have fits of compassion. As a pet lover and a nurse, my caretaking instincts immediately took over. I gently scooped the little one up in both hands and carried her into the house.

I grabbed a little wicker basket and placed the baby inside it. She hopped up and perched on the edge of the basket, persistently chirping out her concerns. She seemed to have very definite ideas about how the world should be, and I felt frustrated that I didn't know how to fix things for her at that moment. She could flap her little wings but she seemed to be too young to fly. She didn't appear to have any injuries.

I took a deep breath while the little singer continued cheeping her distress, and tried to consider what options might be available. My friend who teaches in the wildlife ecology program at the local university had recently emailed me stating that she would be away on a Buddhist retreat for the entire month. I called her office neverthless, and the department secretary gave me the phone number for a wildlife rescue agency. I quickly dialed their number, and my heart sank when I was transferred to their voice mail. I left my name and number, and hung up.

I logged on to my laptop and emailed a few folks, including my spouse, about the situation. Almost immediately the phone rang, and Jack was calling from his office to suggest that I contact the Wild Birds Unlimited store. I hadn't thought of that. I hung up and looked up their number. I got a nice young salesman on the line, and he gave me the cell phone number of a wildlife rehabilitation specialist. I thanked him and promptly dialed the cell phone number, as the baby bird continued to watch me with her intense little gaze.

A kind and knowledgeable woman answered the cell phone. I explained my situation. She said to make a little nest in the basket and hang it in a tree outside so that hopefully the parents would find the baby. She suggested feeding it a little lunch meat or cat food with tweezers. My hopes soared as I took in this information. I found a pair of tweezers and retrieved some honey baked ham from the fridge. It didn't take long for the little feathered bundle to convince me that she didn't want even the smallest bits of shredded ham. Her tiny beak snapped shut in a determined way, reminding me of human toddlers pursing their lips to refuse green peas. I got out a can of Fancy Feast Savor Salmon catfood and pulled open the pop top. It took me a few tries to figure out how to pinch up a small amount of the wet ground cat food between the tweezer tines. I offered the little baby a bite. Bingo! Her beak opened wide and I gently dropped the salmon into her waiting throat. My baby hungrily accepted several bites of the cat food.

I thought she might be a wren due to the brownish tint of her feathers, but the rehabilitation specialist told me that cardinal babies start off brown as camouflage and grow their red feathers later. Finding out that my baby was a cardinal made me smile, since cardinals are my very favorite birds.

After feeding the baby, I took the basket out back and hung it in a tree near our bird feeder. I sat down in the backyard garden where we often spend time watching nature, and waited. The baby continued to cheep away, but no parents arrived. My heart sank. A million possibilities ran through my mind. What if a thunderstorm comes up? What if the parents have been killed or for whatever reason have abandoned this little fledgling too soon? Is this youngster going to survive?

Eventually the wildlife rescue center returned my call. I told the agent all of the events of the day. She said that the baby needed to be returned to the front yard, because the nest was apparently in front where I found the chick rather than out back, even though the parents probably regularly visit our backyard feeder. I went out back and retrieved the basket, stopping once again in the kitchen to give the little one a cat food snack. Then out the front door we went.

I had just hooked the basket's handle over a low tree branch when I caught a glimpse of a olive-colored female cardinal perched on the fence bordering our property. Yeah! Maybe that's the mother, I thought. Now we're closer to the nest and on the right track. I went back inside the house.

An hour or so later, when I went out to take our dog for his daily late afternoon walk, I peeked through the branches and was disappointed to see that the little one was still sitting on the edge of the substitute bird nest basket. I began to worry that the baby might be alone all night. I decided to bring the little bird back in and feed her again after returning from doggie walking. The dog and I took off down the street.

Jack got home from work shortly after the dog and I got back in from our walk. I invited him to come out with me and retrieve the little one from the front yard. When we looked together through the brush at the tree limb, the basket was empty! We could hear the cardinals tweeting in the trees above us, and I saw one of the adults make a low swoop around towards the back yard, in the direction of our feeder. Placing the baby closer to the nest apparently helped reunite the family. Success!

I wondered what the cardinal parents thought about their little one coming home smelling like salmon, and whether the baby was able to tell her parents about her adventure inside the walls of the human nest that day. Even though I probably won't be able to distinguish her from other members of her species, I hope the little cardinal grows up beautiful and happy and comes to visit us often at our feeder.