We had a little visitor this weekend in our house. Uninvited.
Unless you call a half-opened door an invitation.
It was a sparrow (a song sparrow, I think), which in the realm of possibilities around here for what wild critter could be traipsing into your home was pretty benign.
Naturally, I freaked out, screamed, ran in circles, and then called the hubs in. He brought a fishing net to get the bird, but ended up just using his hands to gently carry out the little guy.
Look at him with his beak open. He might have been in shock. He sat on the hubs’ hand with his mouth wide open for a minute or so. Just like the Kid would if the hubs held a My Little Pony gummy above her head.
He flew off and we haven’t heard from him since. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t write.
Caregiving is such an unappreciated job.
Maybe that was his poop on the deck railing.
At this rate, I might need to change the title of this blog to Let the Bird in, but I’ve gotten some good bird shots lately so you’ll just have to
click over to Perezhilton if you’re bored bear with me.
We had this visitor, the golden-crowned sparrow, who is supposed to be here in winter and head north for the summer, any day now.
Here he is, eating away on the deck railing, looking good. I love getting shots of them with food in their mouths. [Isn’t there a celebrity website of pictures of celebrities eating? That’s got to be practically impossible to get pictures of, at least of the actresses.]
Then he turned around.
EEK! What happened to his eyeball??
And to be totally honest, I didn’t notice this defect until I looked at these shots on my computer.
Mother Nature is rough! Was he attacked? Born deformed? I think someone pecked his eyeball out. That’s gotta be up there with water-boarding for heinous acts.
Birds torturing birds…? Tell me where the all-sunflower-seeds feeder is! Now! Or else!
It’s pretty impressive to me that an injured bird like this can even survive. Imagine how nervous and twitchy you’d be not able to see one whole side of the world? Every noise a potential predator.
What was that? Who’s there? Mommy, is that you meowing?
Should I put some Xanax out for him?