Darling starling

How beautiful is this starling on the right? We found a baby in our flower pot in the front of our house, anxiously waiting for his mother who was nowhere to be found. (Actually, the contractor found it in the middle of the street, scooped it up and gently put it in our flower pot.) Because we live in an urban area, there are all sorts of cats, dogs, traffic, and etc. that are dangerous, so we banged on the door of a neighbor, our resident nature expert who told us we had to go get an eye dropper and baby food and feed the bird. It's also a myth that touching birds antagonizes the mothers. Birds have lousy senses of smell and won't notice any human scent.

Feeding a baby starling was the most incredible experience! You have to sort of gently hold the bird and then very, very gently prod the mouth open and then squeeze in the food (organic chicken and veggie baby food at the pricey Garden of Eden! Nothing's too good for the starling!) We called the uber cool bird rehabilitation center who told us to get the bird to them, to keep it warm and not to give it water because birds aspirate water and drown. Oh. Nothing like making us nervous.

Jeff woke up at six in the morning worrying about the bird (the starling was singing! He was fine!) and we all piled in the car and drove 45 minutes to the bird place. They introduced him to a bunch of other starlings and we roamed around looking at all the gorgeous birds they rehabilitate and then set free into the wild! All the cages had great signs, too, (In memory of Roger Lafone, tough as an eagle, gentle as a dove...This is dedicated to Mary Chelsea. She loved birds and they loved her back) and of course as soon as we left, I started to ache for the starling and miss him.

Oh, I have a marshmallow heart!