A baby bird hopping along the blistering sidewalks of New York City in July has, I'd reckon, about 5 or 10 minutes, tops.
So it didn't seem the largest crime to scoop up the ugly, unfeathered creature, and bring it upstairs to our home. I popped it into one of my ex-husband's many bird cages, gave it some water and a slice of multigrain bread.
Then I went online. What I learned was that I might have broken Federal Songbird protection laws by picking up a wild bird. I also learned it would need to be fed by eyedropper every two or three hours, or die.
Out of curiousity I chose the bird's care over consideration of Federal penalties. And sleep, as it would happen.
My ex-husband was fascinated and jumped into the project. He had kept a room full of Australian finches before I met him, and when the trio of zebra finches he bought me early in our relationship started reproducing excessively, he furthered his reputation as the local Bird Man by inviting children in our neighborhood to adopt the offspring.
As the bird matured, we learned it was a starling, a member of the mynah family, which meant at some point it would begin to imitate the sounds around it.
I was quite sure its first words would be to our dog: "Britta, get down!" But my ex had high hopes for the bird who got noisy and excited whenever he heard music by John Coltrane or Thelonius Monk. The bird was dubbed "Thelonius."
Somewhere there is a photo of Thelonius, nearing adult plumage, perched, head under wing, on my ex's laptop screen as he worked.
Thelonius imprinted on us during those eyedropper feedings, and we learned that starlings are not among the songbirds protected by any Federal or New York State law. Pigeons may be a different story, if you were wondering.
We also learned that in our care, Thelonius had not learned the socialization which would allow him (or her, since the plumage had not yet differentiated) to join the infinite number of starlings that grace the streets and parks of New York City.
My ex decided we'd keep Thelonius, and our second bedroom, an aerie with outrageous views over the Hudson and Palisades, quickly became the domain of bird poop, stray feathers, my ex-husband, and his paperwork.
My father has reminded me that I was forever bringing home strays as a child. But when I told a co-worker about Thelonius and he declared that he actually walked the sidewalks of New York looking for baby birds to rescue and raise, I exercised eminent domain and gave Thelonius a permanent home. For the record, my ex agreed, reluctantly, although I can't say he didn't hold it against me afterward.
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So it didn't seem the largest crime to scoop up the ugly, unfeathered creature, and bring it upstairs to our home. I popped it into one of my ex-husband's many bird cages, gave it some water and a slice of multigrain bread.
Then I went online. What I learned was that I might have broken Federal Songbird protection laws by picking up a wild bird. I also learned it would need to be fed by eyedropper every two or three hours, or die.
Out of curiousity I chose the bird's care over consideration of Federal penalties. And sleep, as it would happen.
My ex-husband was fascinated and jumped into the project. He had kept a room full of Australian finches before I met him, and when the trio of zebra finches he bought me early in our relationship started reproducing excessively, he furthered his reputation as the local Bird Man by inviting children in our neighborhood to adopt the offspring.
As the bird matured, we learned it was a starling, a member of the mynah family, which meant at some point it would begin to imitate the sounds around it.
I was quite sure its first words would be to our dog: "Britta, get down!" But my ex had high hopes for the bird who got noisy and excited whenever he heard music by John Coltrane or Thelonius Monk. The bird was dubbed "Thelonius."
Somewhere there is a photo of Thelonius, nearing adult plumage, perched, head under wing, on my ex's laptop screen as he worked.
Thelonius imprinted on us during those eyedropper feedings, and we learned that starlings are not among the songbirds protected by any Federal or New York State law. Pigeons may be a different story, if you were wondering.
We also learned that in our care, Thelonius had not learned the socialization which would allow him (or her, since the plumage had not yet differentiated) to join the infinite number of starlings that grace the streets and parks of New York City.
My ex decided we'd keep Thelonius, and our second bedroom, an aerie with outrageous views over the Hudson and Palisades, quickly became the domain of bird poop, stray feathers, my ex-husband, and his paperwork.
My father has reminded me that I was forever bringing home strays as a child. But when I told a co-worker about Thelonius and he declared that he actually walked the sidewalks of New York looking for baby birds to rescue and raise, I exercised eminent domain and gave Thelonius a permanent home. For the record, my ex agreed, reluctantly, although I can't say he didn't hold it against me afterward.
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