Date Posted:07:37:55 05/16/06 Tue Author:Beverly Subject: Cecil County Flora and Fauna ... and Feathers ...
A few days ago, sitting in the kitchen, savouring a second cup of coffee and 'browsing' through the news at Google.com, I was startled by a 'thump' at the glass sliding door. Turning quickly, I saw just what I sadly expected - a small bird had hit the glass, and was now on the deck, wings spread back, and beak open.
I jumped up and went out the door, and gathered the little chickadee in my hands. 'Don't die', I plead with the bird, 'don't die!' I could feel a faint quiver in the bird's body, as I re-entered the house. Holding the chickadee loosely in my left palm, with my right hand - fingers slightly spread - covering over the bird's wings and head, I just sat quietly. My hands helped to trap the bird's own body heat, as well as provide some warmth from me, while the bird rested. It's beak was still open - not a good sign - but there was still a heartbeat that I could feel on the palm of my left hand.
Hoping the bird had not broken its neck, I waited to see if it would recover from the impact. After a few minutes, I saw that the bird had begun to close its beak, and blink, then open its beak again. A good sign! I waited a bit longer, not changing my hold, hoping to feel some movement in the bird's feet or wings. Soon, a happy tremble of wings. Peeking through my fingers, I could see the bird was now keeping its beak closed, and moving its head side to side, trying to decide how to escape the 'cage' my fingers created.
I removed my right hand, but continued to hold the bird loosely in my left, and got my camera. I took my little chickadee out to the deck, and rested my hand on the deck railing, but did not yet open my hands to release the bird. I wanted the bird's body to adjust gradually to the cooler outside air. A few minutes more, and more movement from the chickadee, and I took a quick photo of the bird in hand, then opened my fingers off the bird's wings. The chickadee did not hesitate for a moment, but flew directly to the wild cherry tree that is just some thirty feet from the deck. Other chickadees fluttered over to the tree, as well - and in an instant, they all flew deeper into the woods.
Unfortunately, the glass reflects the trees and leaves of the woods, and now and then a bird will fly into the glass, instead of away from the house, when leaving the deck railing feeders. I've had the same problem when using hanging feeders, too, so I don't think it's because of where I feed. It's just the nature of the reflection. I've tried the deterrent hawk silhouettes that one can find in various wildlife shops, with no appreciable difference. I can expect about six birds a year to hit the glass.
I've been lucky, in that of six, generally 5 will survive, if gotten quickly enough to keep them from losing their body heat while they recover from the concussion. I've found the best way to help the birds is not to just put them in a safe place, but to actually hold them gently in my hands, close to my body, and keep them thus until they actually start to try to 'escape' my loose hold. Then, taking them back outside, I usually continue to hold them until I have allowed them to adapt to the outside temps, and I just let them off my palm, at their leisure.
This is a chipping sparrow, that hit the kitchen slider last winter:
The chipping sparrow took its time, once it recovered from the impact, and seemed quite comfortable in my hand. I had to actually use my thumb to encourage the sparrow to step off my finger, on to the deck railing. Once there, instead of flying off, it decided to eat, cracking open several sunflower seeds, and then taking a kernel of corn, when it finally decided to fly up into the sweet gum tree.
This red breasted nuthatch was the first bird that I brought inside, to recover, my first spring here in Elkton:
Like the chipping sparrow, the nuthatch also took its time, leaving my hand - but it selected a peanut piece before flying into the sweet gum tree.
Last fall, I had an especially 'exciting' thing occur. From the kitchen, I heard a light 'thunk' from the front of the house (this is an A-frame, and the front is glass from the main floor to the peak, about 20' up ...). As I rushed to the living room, I heard a much harder 'thwack' - and there on the deck was a sharp shinned hawk! The Sharpie must have been pursuing a bird (likely a cardinal), and followed his intended victim right into the glass! So surprised I was momentarily stunned, myself! By the time I looked around to grab my fireplace gloves (thick leather, with long gauntlets), the hawk was recovering from his sudden stop! I reached for the glass door handle, and slid the door open a foot. The hawk rose and hopped a few feet. I stayed inside the house, and watched. The hawk just rested for a few moments, then hopped to the edge of the deck, looked right and left, then pushed off, and flew back into the trees. I went out to the deck, to see if the smaller bird was there, but evidently the 'prey' had only grazed the glass, and had gotten away otherwise unscathed. I sooo wish I'd have had a camera ready, that afternoon - the hawk had an almost comically confused look on its face - I could almost see the cartoon 'stars and moons' swirling aroung it's head. I knew better than to try to grab the hawk without the protective gloves, however, for a hawk will not hesitate to inflict a serious injury to anyone foolish enough to be bare handed. I was, of course, very pleased to see the sharpie recover - but I did so want to get an 'up close and personal' look at him - they are lovely birds!
Several years ago, back on Long Island, I had another exciting encounter with a feathered friend - the chance to hold an indigo bunting that had hit the glass of the pavilion at Montauk Point State Park. My companions and I had just decided to get a cup of hot chocolate at the pavilion cafeteria, and I spotted a tiny bundle of bright blue on the cement apron of the pavilion. Scooping up the bird, I took it over to the benches near the reed and brier covered dunes, and just sat with it for a few minutes, until it too could recover. The colours of the bird's feathers were simply amazing - all different shades of blue, a wondrous thing, indeed. When it moved enough, in my palm, to indicate that it was 'ready', I took it over, and put it in amongst the brier branches. It rested for a few minutes more, then off it went, but such chance encounters are remembered long after the bird has gone.
