August 16, 2004

Garden of Simple

In my front yard, among the rosemary and lavender, there is a small baby pigeon nesting in the garden. She is feisty, with nearly full-feathered wings, and she pecks up a storm.

I found her outside yesterday morning, shivering and dazed under the stairs. She was leaning against the wicker wastepaper basket by the mailboxes in my apartment complex, her whole body a pulsing heartbeat.

I watched her for a while, and didn't touch her. Supposing the mother might be nearby, I let her be.

Seven hours later, after a dazzling day in the sunshine coupled with mojitos and lovely company, I came home. And she was still there, shrinking into herself, very nearly motionless. After conferring with my neighbors and scouring the internet, I learned some useful facts.

  • It is common knowledge that if you handle a baby bird, its mother will abandon it, sensing the foreign scent of a human on her offspring. This is false. Birds have horrible senses of smell.
  • If you find a baby bird, do not give it water.
  • Most vets have nutritional formula that you can feed the bird, preferably through an infant medicine syringe, which they will also most likely have. I was lucky in that a few blocks away, there was an emergency vet that sold baby bird kits, for just such an occasion.
  • If you give a baby bird to a shelter, they will most likely euthanize it. Certain vets, however, will take it in and care for it, for a fee.
  • Lastly, if you find a baby bird that has feathers, leave it alone. It is learning to fly, and its mother will abandon for periods of time, watching from a distance. In all likelihood, if the bird has feathers, it's momma is nearby.

    The pigeon I found was probably 2.5 weeks old, and I housed her for night in my bathroom, surrounded by warm water bottles with the heat turned up. I made a nest for her of twigs and toilet paper, and she snuggled in for some cozy rest. In the morning, she was awake but mostly still, and I cupped her in my hands and released her into the garden.

    When I checked on her several hours later, she flew away from me as I approached, and the frenetic beating of wings sounded overhead. The distressed momma had found her, and was teaching her to fly.

    In my life, I have tried to rehabilitate squirrels, turtles, rabbits, songbirds and even a seagull.

    All of them have died.

    This is probably the first animal that has left my care better for it. I wish her well as she learns to spread her wings.

    Posted by Olga at 04:14 PM | Comments (1)

    • August 06, 2004

    Updates, Vikings, and Aliens

    So many things come to pass between entries, it's just silly!

    I went to San Diego Comic-Con for one. In spite of taking a year of photography classes and being somewhat handy with a camera, I tend to never bring a camera with me anywhere. So the following pictures are reliant on the kindness of strangers. There are probably more, of Sarah and I, floating around in someone's vacation journal, or occasional standing in as booth babes. If you find them, let me know.


    Sarah and I on day 1, with the fabulous Erika Moen, who ambushed us the second we stepped into the convention center, and who has very lovely things in the Flight anthology.


    Day 02, being Aliens for The Behemoth. Incidentally, we are on the back of their press package for the video game, saying complimentary things like "this game is NEAT!"


    Day 03, Sarah and I again, this time with Rich! Starkings, who once mistook me for a SuicideGirl. (I think he has his first name legally changed to have an exclamation point at the end.)

    Other pictures that probably should exist are of Allen Spiegel (sometime after midnight) enthusiastically singing about Nash Ramblers, Sarah getting manhandled by a large Viking whom I had to give What For, Kevin Kelly in a towel just because, and probably a few of Anh Tran. Because she is too friggin cute.

    Posted by Olga at 12:28 AM | Comments (0)