Bug’s eye view
It’s that time of year again, when the swifts that nest above the car park at our office return and start to have babies, and the babies, invariably, start to fall out of the nest and into the car park. Last year, I kept finding dead, or half dead, baby birds – pink hatchlings, vulnerable and naked without even fluffy baby feathers – which I would take home to bury.
Today, I found this year’s first capsized baby bird. This is the largest I’ve found fallen out of its nest – maybe three four weeks old, with flight feathers on its wings, but its neck is still scrawny and pink, and it’s no where near flight ready. Happily, it is still alive, and seemingly healthy enough, but it’s a long way back up to its home and we don’t know how to shove it back in there. So we’re trying to keep it alive – not an easy prospect.
A crash course in swift rearing however has taught us that our bird is insectivorous. And a few helpful online videos make it clear that hoping birdy will open wide for the worm is wishful thinking. So in lieu of our usual lunch time run, today Bev and I set off on a bug hunting expedition. Ideally, we’d like to find flying bugs – the kind we figure Momma and Poppa Swift would bring home for birdy’s staple diet. But catching flying things requires a coordination I have never possessed. So I kept my eyes on the ground looking for ants and spiders, whilst Bev more optimistically was on the look out crickets and butterflies. It certainly made for a different kind of run. From a bug’s eye view our city is enormous – Just one small patch of grass holds endless crawling creature potential. And shaking up the Tuesday routine to help out a creature in distress gave a valuable reminder of the importance of slowing down, of not being too busy to help, or to care. It’s like the root of activism, or social justice, or trying to make the world a better place. It’s an uphill battle, but you do it anyway. I know birdy probably won’t make it through the night. But that doesn’t mean you don’t try.