Morning of May 4, 2014. Sunday.
We end up with a baby bird that had apparently fallen out of a nest in a nearby area of the yard of the house we live in presently. I think it is a wild finch. It is very small and cannot quite walk properly (and it seems injured at first, though turns out not to be - just being a bit weak). I have a large container with no top that is somewhat like a semitransparent plastic storage box, but which is about two-thirds the size of the top of my computer desk. The bottom of the container has about a one-inch (or more) layer of dirt.
Over time, the bird begins to move a little more. For some reason, we decide the best thing to feed it to ensure its survival are very tiny pieces of rubber cut from a bicycle inner tube, as if that makes perfect sense. It also seems to be all we have regarding “bird food”. It seems to be “happy” about getting the tiny inner tube pieces and eats all that I give it.
A little later, I decide that crackers will probably be better, though I am thinking about all the preservatives and wondering if they will be harmful to birds in general, yet somehow, it eventually seems okay, and does seem a better option than the rubber bits (and less troublesome and time-consuming to provide) - so I break up a few crackers into fine crumbs (to my left relative to the container) and it enthusiastically feeds.
Finally, I crunch up a stack of Pringles potato chips and scatter them in a larger area to the right. However, there are still a lot of nearly whole pieces that go into the makeshift terrarium and the baby bird looks a bit bigger and more developed, even moving its recently feathered wings about as it hops a bit more energetically. (For some reason, its wings look like they are on “backwards” but I think this may be only because of the downy feathers curled back.) It is able to bite into the potato chips and easily feed without any help from me, reminding me of a person holding up and taking a bite out of a large sandwich. I figure about half a cylinder of the chips will keep him going for at least a day or two. It goes under a chip and out again, seeming to enjoy its access to its food and it is becoming stronger, reminding me a little of a guinea pig moving about in a large, cage-sized cluster of grass and getting “happily lost” in it.
For a time, I worry about leaving it, because I am concerned it will get trapped under some sections of scattered clusters of the more complete chips, but the scene does not seem that problematic for it. It goes under a whole chip and does not come out for a time and that seems my cue to wake as it seems to no longer exist at that point.