I returned home at 12:30 after a busy morning of running chores. I immediately went to my deck to enjoy the fresh air and peacefulness that my part of the woods affords me. I heard a small rustling under my feet and chalked it up to one of my feral cats scratching and playing with some leaves.
Unfortunately, the rustling was getting more frantic. It dawned on me what was truly causing this sound. Yes, it was my feral but he wasn’t just playing with leaves. He was “playing” with a bird. I jumped into action as I always do when I see my cat attacking the wildlife.
I shooed Grady away and saw that he had injured a nuthatch. The poor little guy was limping along and trying to fly away. He wasn’t getting far and Grady was already trying to pounce on him again. I had to act fast and get the bird to safety.
My first instinct was to pick up the bird in my hands and bring him in my house. Do you know how hard it is to grab a little bird while it’s trying to fly away in the woods? I’m not a graceful woman so I was close to poking out one of my eyes moving along the trees, not paying attention to anything but the injured little guy.
After four attempts I was now in my neighbor’s yard. Yes, this is the same neighbor that heard me loosing my mind when I was trying to get my little orange son-of-a-bitch cat back in the house. I was giving it one more try and then I was taking off my shirt and throwing it over the bird to stop it from getting stressed out and to give me a larger target. Don’t picture that, just keep reading.
I scooped him up on the last try. Now to get out of the thick woods with a little injured bird in my hands and a big hungry cat on my tail. Did I mention that my Pomeranian got in on the action at this point too? Yeah, so now I’m walking through my neighbor’s yard (who’s on HER deck enjoying the day as well, or at least was) with my hands full, my dog thinking we’re about to play catch and a feral cat that’s pissed I took his lunch away.
I got the nuthatch (now named Bernard) safe in a large mixing bowl and called a local bird rescue. Thirty minutes later, Bernard was on his way to getting the help he needed.
I called later that afternoon to find out that Bernard was only stunned and his flight feathers were removed during his scuffle with Grady. So, the little guy will stay in their care until his flight feathers grow back and he’ll be released back to the wild.
The moral of this story is...don’t live next to me if you’re not mentally prepared to deal with a half naked lunatic and all of my animal issues. The other moral of this story...my current neighbors are saints!