he flew from the front porch after breakfast (a worm and a couple of grapes). He still liked to perch on my shoulder and eat there.
I sat with him on the front porch, each morning, he'd hop around the garden, pecking at dirt.
The kittens would catch more bugs than he did, though.
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| Shirley's half-barrel pond |
He spent a couple of hours June 20th both in the a.m. and p.m., before returning to the nest, so-to-speak. Mastering the art of flying, he is doing really well. He flew back and sat on the eavestrough waiting for dinner.
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| See him perched?! |
His eye was crusted over with blood the first day, which I didn't realize for a few days. I washed it off with a wet Q-tip on the advice of The late Kathy Niehi's Wild Bird Care Centre . For the first few days I tried that, it seemed to hurt him too much.
Then, I think whatever had happened healed up and he was able to tolerate me wiping it off. The eye was swollen, then it went down after a couple of days.
His antics trying to eat the inch worm were funny. I think, like my granddaughters, he might benefit from corrective lenses.
Lots of fun videos, and, yes, those are the right time stamps. He was an early bird that liked being fed the worm. He sang for his supper, and lunch, and dinner, and snacks in between.
R.I.P.
His last day was June 21st, first day of summer. I fed him only one worm and a half grape. He wanted more, but I was trying to make sure he'd find his own food, too.
He looked at me, hopped onto my lap, and then hopped up to my shoulder begging for more food.
After a moment he flew down into the garden, under the shade of the spruce tree. Then off into the forest.
It was a hot day.
I played with the twins, we gardened, they followed my everywhere. I'd transplanted two rose bushes, watered the garden; they'd helped. By noon we'd gotten tired.
I'd let Buster Brown cat get near to Batman, so he would know that not everything in his world was going to feed him worms. Batman would try to bite Buster's nose, eventually flying away from Buster in self-defense. Good lesson.
Sady, the queen, was indoors napping. The twins slept from noon until 6 p.m. I called Batman all afternoon, but no sign of him.
JB and Sady in the back yard, me and my twins in the front. I spotted Buster gently batting at something.
It was dead little Batman. He had been killed.
I think a larger bird, both blue jays and crows are wicked - going after babies in nests and birds in trees. I'd heard them all day. There was a big wound in his chest. Our friend said, wisely, that Batman was star-crossed, unlikely to live and that fate was against him. Perhaps so.I buried him in his favourite garden in front of the well, beside a rose bush. R.I.P my precious little sweetie. Three teaching degree, but I couldn't teach him what he needed in order to survive. At least he didn't starve in the bush.
Other Batman's videos:
- June 16, 2011 07:35 AM |
June 16, 2011 06:39 AM |
June 11, 2011 01:16 PM |
June 9, 2011 11:04 AM |
June 9, 2011 10:18 AM |
