A Tale for My Big Brother
The loud thud shook the hanging ornament on our front door. Something or someone had lunged at the door, and it woke both Sophie and I up. Sophie’s incessant barking could not be appeased until I had dragged my sleepy limbs from under the bed covers and tiptoed down the carpeted stairs barefoot.
Sophie continued to bark pausing to sniff the threshold of the door intermittently. A creature was still there. I debated calling 911. There was no sound. I assumed that whoever or whatever it was had decided to flee; Sophie’s barking is twice as loud as her size would indicate. It was a sleepless night that followed. What if someone was trying to break-in? They would have broken in by now. What if it was a coyote -I had heard of a growing population of urban coyotes in our area, but why would he or she lunge at the door?
Early next morning, I went down the stairs again. Daylight had flooded the hallway, and if a stranger was still lurking outside, I would be able to see him clearly. I slowly opened the door. There was nothing. The urn and planter setup did not look disrupted; nonetheless, there were leaves on the front door mat. I looked closer; they were not leaves. They were straws. I wondered where they came from. Looking closer, I observed three nestlings on their belly with their partially-formed beaks pointing down. I froze. One moved. I immediately sought a box of Kleenex, grabbing as much as I could to pick the creatures off the ground. I tried warming all three in the palm of my hand. I kept a loose grasp for almost 30 minutes while I prepared to go to work, struggling with the next decision on these creatures’ fate.
I had rescued many a wildlife creature in Ohio before and had eventually become a member of the Ohio Wildlife Center; fallen nestlings, an injured chipmunk, an overweight bat, and even a Canadian goose with a broken wing. I called the center number to confirm that their location had not changed. They now had wisely added advice for people like me; instructions on how to handle different injured or abandoned species.
The number one instruction was to put the birds back in the nest and observe. I opened my front door, and as much as I hated to take the nestlings back into the cold, I decided this was for their own good. As I reached to lower the hammock of tissues I had created into the nest firmly attached to the side of the hanging bough on the door, I saw ‘father’ Robin from the corner of my eye. He was perched on a stone across the street and watching me closely. The instructions said to wait. I went back inside and went about my morning routine so as not to be later than I was for work.
Amidst the hum of my mother’s nagging, I quietly planned my next steps. I would check the nest in the next 30 to 45 minutes as the guidelines instructed. If father bird was not there, it meant the tiny creatures had been abandoned. Forty-five minutes later, I was getting ready to leave. I looked through the window; no one at the nest. They were repairing the roadways around the house, and there was a lot of construction and commotion. I waited a little more. I was not going to leave the nestlings to die. Even if they would eventually, I would have tried. I put my lunch bag and purse in the car. The next item in would be a make-shift nest from a small old Christmas basket with more tissue piled up in it. I lowered the birds into it and headed towards the Wild Life Center. As I approached, the familiar, ‘Do Not Bring Skunks into the Facility' sign loomed. The announced hours were 9:00 am to 6:00 pm, and even though I had arrived early, I saw someone walk in with a box. I knew they were open.