This weekend was a weekend of animals. A friend and her husband left town and needed a sitter for their dog, Ricky. Ricky is mostly a black lab, but he’s long and gangly and kind of goofy looking in the face, so he’s part something else—part nerd, I think. If there was a high school for dogs, Ricky definitely would not be in the “cool” dog group. For instance, he does this thing where he forces his way between your legs when you’re standing until you’re looking down at just his butt, and then when you pet his butt he lifts one foot and then the other, over and over again, doing a little tap dance of joy. I guess most dogs are into butt stuff, but Ricky definitely takes it to a new level.
Ricky, who goes by the more formal Richard when he is in trouble, was originally from Puerto Rico, where he was known as Ricardo, but like so many who come to America (proper, not territory), his name was Americanized. Once, in a small town in Oklahoma, I ate at a Chinese restaurant where the owner, who spoke little English, said that his name was something like Patrick.
Ricky and I went on walks and even went to a small gathering on Saturday night where Ricky was the center of attention, petted by every kid and most of the adults at the party. Then on Sunday evening, Ricky and I were out walking when we came upon two baby birds on the sidewalk that had presumably fallen from a nest, but I couldn’t find a nest or a mother nearby. I thought both the babies were dead, but I poked one a little bit and he moved. It was lightly raining out and he was sitting right in the middle of a wet sidewalk, so I scooped him up and took him home. Ricky sniffed at the dead one but I pulled him away and then he wanted to see what I had but I didn’t show him. The little bird felt like a warm little furry chicken nugget in my hand, his feathers just starting to form (so not a fledgling), and his eyes not yet open to the world.
When I got home I tore up some paper towels and made a kind of nest in a bowl and put him under a lamp and then tucked him in with a paper towel blanket. Mostly I just felt bad and didn’t want him to die outside in the rain on the cold sidewalk, so I figured he could die at my house and at least be warm and dry when he did. I just kept thinking how bad it would suck to be in a nice dry, warm nest with your mom snuggling you and then suddenly you’re on a cold wet sidewalk and your brother is dead nearby.
I thought about driving him to the wildlife rehab center, but I called them twice and they didn’t answer, and it was nearly closing time. Also, it is 30 miles round-trip and the bird didn’t have $5 for gas money. Plus he wasn’t moving much and looked like a lost cause, so I figured for sure he was a goner.
But after a couple hours of warming up, he started to move a little and fidget, even spreading his tiny wings. I put some water in a bottle cap in front of him and though he couldn’t see it, he must have known it was there because he darted his head out and got a drink a few times. Then I went and found some tiny worms in the yard for him, but he wasn’t interested.
Later Sunday evening, my friend who was supposed to pick Ricky up texted asking if I’d watch him one more night and she’d get him in the morning. She also happens to live close to the wildlife rehab center, so she volunteered to take the little bird there if he was still alive in the morning. So Ricky and I started watching the new season of Only Murders in the Building on Hulu (Ricky loves that show) and left the little bird under the lamp all night.
When I woke up, the little bird had taken a pretty big poop and was moving around a bit in the bowl, so things were looking up. I transferred him into a tupperware container and when my friend arrived she took him to the wildlife center where they said he was a mourning dove and that he’d probably survive. I absolutely love the sound of mourning doves, so I was pretty happy to hear this.
Earlier this summer, I found a nest with two eggs in it (photo below). It was about waist level in an evergreen tree out in front of my house. It seemed like a stupid place to build a nest to me, but what do I know? Curious, I kept peeking in, and after a week or two there were two little mourning doves in it. They live on a really accelerated timeline, so pretty soon I was seeing them out and about in my yard, trying to act like adults. Then suddenly they were adults and for weeks they would treat me to their calls in the evenings. Eventually they moved on.
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