How quickly things change in life and nature. Wednesday, Bernie the starling achieved two major steps: He sat in our ficus tree on the screened-in porch (with an assist from me) and had quite a big time pulling on leaves. And, more importantly, he picked up two meal worms and ate them, instead of just tossing them around and waiting to be fed. Quite the accomplishments for a wee one.
Then I left to pick up some of our grandkids at school. Jude and I rushed upstairs to see Bernie (Jude named him), and evidently he’d had a misstep while I was gone. Instead of being perched on one of the branches in his box or in a chair or on the floor (he’s been exploring a bit lately), he was in his fancy box with his left leg at a funny angle. We have no idea what he did, but we’re hoping it’s just a sprain/strain – a little research shows that to be very common in starlings who land on hard surfaces.
Sadly, he’s lost the ability to perch (or maybe it just hurts right now), though he can walk and had a great time playing in a puddle in the yard yesterday. But for the time being, this seems to be one of his favorite things:
From what I’ve read, he can recover, regain his footing, and, we hope, leave the nest. If he wants to live in our yard, that’s just fine. At least we won’t have to worry about cats here. But we want him to go free, and he already prefers the great outdoors of the screened porch upstairs to his safety box in the laundry room, where we put him at night (and kept him yesterday for recuperation, to his dismay).
Whatever happens, we’re giving him our best shot and our love. Even if his life is short, it’s better than being a snack for a feral cat, which is where he was headed.
Please send him your healing thoughts. He’s a good little bird. Now I’ll go back upstairs to check on him and see if he’s hungry again. But mainly, we wait. And as my man Tom Petty says, the waiting is the hardest part.