Hitch-Hiking Sparrow

Things that take priority over writing
(ran in SVRWA Newsletters for June, July and August, 2010 - 3-parts)

June 14, 2010 - July 21, 2010
   
      I was driving back from San Diego and reminding myself why I was going down less often and staying more than 5 minutes. The drive is hell. LA was a bloody mess. Four hours to go 150 miles. And that is driving 80-85 whenever the road allowed.
      Well, not the Grapevine this time.
      And I was distressed because the last trip last month, the hills were ablaze with flowers of all colors – orange, white, purple, blue, yellow and lots of shades of green. Like an impressionist’s painting.
      This time, it was a uniform shade of dried out brown.
      Fires everywhere already. Fire scars. Burning pickups and useless men with tiny fire extinguishers trying to shoot foam into the radiator grill - no boys, you need an Earth mover and the hood up. Engine fires have reached FUEL. You have to smother them – or unload the vehicle because it is a lost cause.
      I didn’t even bother to call 911 on that one. I reached Lake Hughes MacDonald’s and I did NOT walk the pups – they would have burned their little puppy feet. Well over 100. Intense valley heat.

      I got back on the road after gas, (the car not me), and plowed the road for Harris Ranch (198 and I5). No meat this time. No pastry. Just decaf. The heat was still there. But the pups were complaining. So, I got coffee, drove over the 33 pump station and got gas, and pulled around to the dog walking area. Someone pulled in front of me to the first shade spot, I got the second. I hooked up the two beagle pups, and started to walk.
      Almost at once, I heard a sound and looked down and my heart flipped. I quickly dragged the girls into a heel.
      On a green coffee cup lid, was a newly-hatched eyes shut little baby bird – who was on the ground under a tree in the dog grass.
      I quickly, after looking around, put the pups away (over protests – not enough smelling things). I drove to the convenience store (where the pumps are – too hot to walk). I asked four people. NOTHING! They were not interested, there was no wildlife service out here, there was nothing.
      I called my son. Leave it or rescue it? Like there was a choice.
      I need a box (Medifast bars on hand). A shirt (I was not wearing mine). I have a big pot on the front seat floor to hold drinks and food.
      I drove back. Found the little thing, struggling, opening its beak, chirping. Must have been what caught my eye.
      A napkin in the box, scooped up the baby (the shade was leaving it) and the little thing tried climbing back out! I closed the lid (loose lid). Put the box in the pox and draped a thin blouse over it. My son had reminded me to protect from drafts.
      Sorry puppies.
      My son called me back, I almost went over the embankment on the on ramp. He found something – back behind the direction I was headed.
      Try Newark – I ended up in the middle of something at 2AM coming in from the hospital once.
      Yes – Wildlife Rehap in Newark. Call when I get closer. Note I have no blue tooth and at this point – DIDN’T MATTER.
      I hit the gas and fled up I5, Mach 1 with my hair on fire. Chirp chirp chirp. I did NOT blast the radio. I sipped double-shot (my doctor will kill me) and I drove lead-foot. I past a HUGE field on fire – and no one fighting it. I did NOT call 911 for that either!
      My son called to check – I need to be there before 7PM.
      I was about 60 miles out by then. (Harris is 170 miles out). I was hauling ass. I was also in the equivalent of a Santa Ana wind! I needed to hang up!
      As I was getting to the 580-680 joining, the chirps were getting weaker. I was getting hysterical.
      I roared down the canyon (unfortunately I could not speed because we had a dead-head in the front pulling a long train). I hit Mowry and then Thornton and was headed right. And hit Fremont rush hour traffic, a train and red lights!
      My son checked where I was and we marked off streets (I still turned wrong). I turned right finally and couldn’t see anything. My son called the Wildlife people – I have to drive THROUGH the 18-wheelers and the two trucking companies. THERE IT IS! And the guy was outside waiting for me. 20 minutes before 7.
      A tiny sign, turn on a DIRT ROAD, and there is the shed-aviary.
      The chirps are hoarse and the baby is EXHAUSTED.
      I stopped and jumped out of the car, ran around, fetched the box.
      I have a baby sparrow.
      Inside the building, the baby was whisked off to be hydrated (white stuff in a tube – direct to stomach). I filled in paper work and went and grabbed my camera.
      They plopped it into a paper nest – said he/she had a full tummy and had done a good poop. These are signs that are good. They told me these were tough little birds.

      I named the baby Beezelbub.

     
      My son, on seeing the photo, said the baby looks pissed. I thought Beezelbub looks exhausted. (The little foot on the left is getting into position however…..)
      Sparrows are evidently tough little birds, or so they told me. (We are looking at 1 ˝ inches of tiny bird.)
      No wonder he/she survived a 170 mile drive. My nerves didn’t!
      I will of course go visit the baby later this week.
      How close that tiny creature came to being a Beagle snack!
      What if I had gone across LA in 2 ˝ hours? What if the field fire had stopped traffic? What if I had pulled over faster to the dog walking and missed that particular tree? What if no one had put it in a green coffee lid – I could have missed it?
      My son said the universe knew I would rescue it and aligned things.
      Sometimes I wonder about the universe.
      The puppies made do with bully sticks. OK, rawhide.

      It was necessary for me to check on the little hitch-hiking sparrow. How can you focus on naked cops and vampires, never mind bit-slice sequencers, when there is a little life at stake? Well - I can't go see him/her/it. But they held up the phone. I could hear the chirps. Oh yeah. Very strong! And then they sent me photos. (These are one week later) A bird with a placard! A PINK BLANKET!

      I called back again in a few days and got an update:
   

      He is doing very well. I have a little pink ankle bracelet on him. So he can be picked out from the rest of the sparrows when he goes outside. He finally moved from the brooder to a basket he has all to himself. With all the accommodations of a movie star. He has his own mirror so he knows he is a sparrow and he likes to chirp to himself. I imagine he is telling himself how very beautiful he is. lol anyway- I would say about another 2 weeks or so. He isn't quite weaned yet but he is almost there. Once he is eating well on his own inside then he moves outside to master his flying capabilities for a week or two. Then he would most definitely like a ride if possible.
      Thank you for caring about him.
      Sincerely,
      David Anderson, RVT
      Manager~Ohlone Humane Society Wildlife Rehabilitation Center

      So – I guess I need to make the run to Harris Ranch shortly.

      A couple weeks later - I called again. We made arrangement. Seems Beezelbub has buddies. They decided I could release them all in my back yard. Oh Lordy. Majority Rule - since the other two are from up here. So, on the day appointed, I arrived, and went inside.... They needed to be caught. They, being wild birds, objected to this procedure. (Involves chasing and a net.) That's Beezelbub, my sparrow, flying. Flew around my head, landed near me. I was fussing. I didn't want them hurt. (No - they were caught in a soft net, and they have to land for a second or two! Then they are handled carefully, checked for soundness and fullness, and stuck into a box.)

The three musketeers

Here's the little rascal - note the pink band. Still looks pissed.

      Aftey were in their "box" (a large cat carrier), I drove them out to my house, with a frantic stop at PetSmart for a feeder and seed. I dumped seed on a dish - put out water. The box had a lot of scratching noises. Oh yeah. 170 miles with that? Guess Fremont is better!

      Once set up, I opened the box and peeked in. Three sets of beady eyes watching me; adorable, tiny. OK. Time to launch.

      I opened the box totally. WHOSH! Two birds flew up and out and off. A second later, number three did the same thing. I heard and felt the passing of the bird wings. That is unique. Then they were free and loose. After 5 weeks.

      Beezelbub still sports the pink band.

      I am aware of birdsong.