This was supposed to be titled "Finches in the Bathroom," but before I could start writing, the story was already over.
This morning, I was watching the birds swarm around the feeders in the front yard. From my kitchen window, I saw a small bird who could only fly a very short distance before falling to the ground. Thinking a baby might have fallen from a nest, I went to check on her.
Since the weather is still too chilly for babies to be hatching and no Mama birds were fluttering around this small creature, I assumed this wasn't a baby. Instead, I found a mature female gold finch. She let me pick her up without much drama. On her back, I could see a puncture, probably from one of the hawks nesting in the back yard. She happily snuggled into the nest I made with my hand and chest, tucked her head into her feathers and went to sleep.
Since I so thoughtlessly sold the cage Skippy lived in at a yard sale last weekend, I had nowhere to put this poor little creature. Neighbor Terri fished out a crab pot that has lots of holes and a lid. This would do until I could grab a small cage from Pet Smart.
While I got dressed, I took the lid off the pot. The little finch took this opportunity to come out and check out her surroundings. She sat on plants, light fixtures, and window sills. Every time she landed, she tucked her head and took a nap.
Back in her pot, I left her in the kitchen while I ran to find her a more comfy home. When I returned two hours later, the poor girl was dead. Nature truly sucks sometimes!
