Welcome to Casa Doolittle
Thursday, August 2nd, 2007A couple months ago, I killed a page on the subject of Gimpy, our adopted three-legged frog, whom I still don't love. He's still staying in the plush 10-gallon aquarium, and is doing well. He actually hops fairly well for a guy with only one rear leg, and seems to like the crickets we supply him. The urchins still have an active interest in Gimpy, although he has now taken a backseat to our latest charity case - Cheeper*, the orphaned baby robin.
I was the one who found him. I was walking around the front of the house looking for something, and was startled by a rather loud, indignant cheep right next to my foot. I look down, and here's this bird, mouth agape, looking up at me. I fetch my Lady Friend, who instantly coos and falls into ohmygodhe'ssocuuuuuute mode. Lady Friend, in case you hadn't put two and two together by now, is a huge champion of the wounded, deformed, and otherwise challenged animals of the world. This may explain her attraction to me.
So here's this bird, not a down-covered baby, but clearly not an adult. He can't fly, and seems to be favoring one of his wings. Ominous note: no sign of momma or daddy. Robin parents, if you've never had the pleasure, are insane beings who protect their young by zooming 2 inches over your head and screeching. They've been known to occasionally use tactical nukes on predators as well.
So, after a succession of non-viable milk crates with large, bird-sized holes, we settle on a 10 gallon tupperware container as a temporary home. He is fed an endless parade of maimed ants, mercilessly crushed by Momma Pol Pot, who tries to gently explain the rationale behind the ant genocide to Poe and Poodle. I'm not sure they bought it.
The plan is to contact the local humane society, and see if they can do anything with/for him. In spite of the fact that I might actually really like Cheeper (but not love), I do hope they can, because it's starting to turn into a wildlife preserve around here.
* Poe named him. I have made a note to not allow Poe to name any future pets, or we'll end up with a dog named Barker, a cat named Meower, and a rabbit named... er.
I was the one who found him. I was walking around the front of the house looking for something, and was startled by a rather loud, indignant cheep right next to my foot. I look down, and here's this bird, mouth agape, looking up at me. I fetch my Lady Friend, who instantly coos and falls into ohmygodhe'ssocuuuuuute mode. Lady Friend, in case you hadn't put two and two together by now, is a huge champion of the wounded, deformed, and otherwise challenged animals of the world. This may explain her attraction to me.
So here's this bird, not a down-covered baby, but clearly not an adult. He can't fly, and seems to be favoring one of his wings. Ominous note: no sign of momma or daddy. Robin parents, if you've never had the pleasure, are insane beings who protect their young by zooming 2 inches over your head and screeching. They've been known to occasionally use tactical nukes on predators as well.
So, after a succession of non-viable milk crates with large, bird-sized holes, we settle on a 10 gallon tupperware container as a temporary home. He is fed an endless parade of maimed ants, mercilessly crushed by Momma Pol Pot, who tries to gently explain the rationale behind the ant genocide to Poe and Poodle. I'm not sure they bought it.
The plan is to contact the local humane society, and see if they can do anything with/for him. In spite of the fact that I might actually really like Cheeper (but not love), I do hope they can, because it's starting to turn into a wildlife preserve around here.
* Poe named him. I have made a note to not allow Poe to name any future pets, or we'll end up with a dog named Barker, a cat named Meower, and a rabbit named... er.
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