Our little bird didn’t hop up on our windowsill. (For the record, he doesn’t hop at all. He walks. Robins hop. We’re not sure what he is now.) He apparently blew out of a nest that my husband couldn’t find and landed in a feral cat jungle – right before a torrential thunderstorm hit, so we had no choice but to rescue the homely little guy (or gal). He’s quite handsome now, but you can see how he looked in the beginning.
We and others assumed from the beak that he was a robin, but now that most of his feathers are in, we’re thinking starling but really aren’t sure. But a baby’s a baby’s a baby, so it doesn’t matter. And after reading up on starlings (and watching videos), they’re much cooler birds than I ever knew.
He wakes us up early but goes to sleep at dusk. It’s rewarding and exhausting.
The dogs are fine with him. The kids think he’s cool and cute, and it’s been an educational experience. We just hope he’ll fly the coop when the time comes.
In other news, the diary has been closed for a while because life got in the way. For one thing, I’ve been writing and editing on another project, which we’ll talk about later. Politics have had me off my game, but I try to keep that topic out of the diaries. (Twitter is another story.) I had back surgery in the fall, which waylaid me for a while, then Mother broke her hip in February, which kept me busy for a while. She’s recuperated beautifully, even though she has osteoporosis, so all-in-all, it was a lucky break.
But we have much to catch up on, so I’ll try to be here more regularly. Until then, happy spring …