Mockingbird Chronicles

On an ordinary July evening in 1985, my friend Alice Friend brought me a fledgling mockingbird, moments before her cat was ready to pounce. She “just knew” I’d know exactly what to do with it. 1 didn’t have a clue. 1 did remember I had one book on wild orphan babies., when or why I had gotten it I didn’t recall, but I did need it now! I do know if it weren’t for the picture of the Mockingbird fledgling in the book, I’d never have known what species it was. I tried everything I could think of to get him to open his mouth. Finally, I put him in a cage in a quiet place and went to bed concerned about my little charge. Not to worry! At the first crack of dawn he was up on his spindly legs peeping his high-pitched peep. His mouth was wide open, and I knew he would readily accept food. Over the next days, I did everything the book said, paying special attention to the line .” we have never had a wild bird leave us until it was fully capable of independence and survival.” Leave us? 1 had not even considered that I was going to have to give him up! For 2 weeks he peeped his shrill high-pitched peep about every half hour from dawn’s first light until dusk. He was really cute, but that incessant chirping did have a way of getting on your nerves. He grew and grew, and suddenly one day he was able to Ily. Soon afterward he became restless, and it became evident he no longer welcomed the confines of his cage. I knew the time had come to begin thinking about his release. This would not be easy...I was already quite attached to him. 1 took the cage outdoors, and he flew out without hesitation. What would happen next was anyone’s guess. Flowever, he stayed close in my cherry tree and continued to summon me about every thirty minutes for a bite of food. He did not leave the back yard and flew onto my head at dusk to be brought back inside to the safety of his cage until morning. One day I decided he would have to be taught how to “catch” flying insects. I had no idea of what was “instinct” and what was not. I put a ladder up to my roof and threw Cheerios here and there. Dry, they flew off too fast, but “wet” made them just about right. He must have enjoyed trying to catch them, because we did this off and on for two days. During this time, I hoped no one would see or report me. These various rituals went on for nine days, but during this time he ventured farther and farther, and returned less frequently for hand-outs. On the 7th day he weathered a sudden heavy rainstorm, and returned cold and soaked. He also had a few feathers missing from the front of his head. A territorial scuffle? On the 8th day I watched him catch a huge beetle and eat it. I sensed his days of returning to me were numbered. On the 10th night he did not return at dusk. He called from a neighbor’s tree as if to say, “I’m O.K., but I’m on my own now!” He stayed nearby for weeks, but then suddenly was gone. All that was left was my journal of this significant experience. The wild bird I had raised was now independent and free, and this was what I wanted for him all along. I always knew that if that little charge had died, I would not be taking care of wildlife today