We went to Ohio last weekend, and when I walked into the house through the back door on Sunday night, a screaming yawping rasping panic sound started up in the dining room. It was rhythmic in a cicada sort of way, and was coming from the fireplace, so I walked over in terror but mostly figuring I’d find a freaked out cicada. And then, horribly, there was a baby bird! Just yelling its head off, in half a nest that must have fallen through the chimney (so about 30 feet). Horrifying, but worse was the one dead on the hearth. Except Bill came over then and realized it wasn’t dead, so we put them both in a shoebox with dishtowels and did what the internet said, which was bravely fight our urges to do anything other than stick them outside so their mom could find them. The almost dead one was so almost dead though…ugh. So we put the shoebox in a tree at the same house-latitude as the fireplace and I’ve spent the last 2 days assuming they were dead but unable to go look. But! I said so to Bill and he said they were alive yesterday, and we checked and they are also alive today! Some bird has got to be taking care of them. They have more feathers than they did when we put them in the tree, and the almost dead one has now joined in the screaming, and is pictured above with its half-nest.
interlexionality 