I sent the dogs out to do potties right before bed just like I do every night. As per the usual, Lulu came in right away and I had to call for Sherman. He came trotting onto the patio, dropped something onto the flagstones, and made his way to the door. It was about the size of an Indian almond pod so I wasn’t terribly concerned but when I got closer I saw it was a tiny, barely hatched bird that had no feathers or features.
It wasn’t moving and it was also pitch black outside so I decided to leave it. There are all manner of interesting creatures that come out at night in Baja and I didn’t want to step on any of them while carrying this dead bird to the fence over which he would be flung. I figured a cat or owl would grab it during the night and the cycle of life would continue.
As soon as I fed the dogs their breakfast this morning, I let them out to take care of business. I remembered the gift Sherman had left on the patio so I went along to see if it was still there. It was there and it was alive.
Now what? If I were still in Tucson, I would have called the wildlife place stored in my phone but this is a small Mexican town during a pandemic with Marines in the barracks guard towers.
I used a leaf to roll it onto a garden trowel and began looking for a place to leave it where the dogs wouldn’t find it. This sad little hairless bird was snuggling into the base of the trowel and I just about lost it. Sherman had brought it from the front of our half-acre compound so I wanted to leave it someplace close to the nest from which it must have fallen. There were no options which would protect it from the dogs.
Some of the palm trees in the backyard hadn’t been trimmed closely so I set the poor little bird up high on a shelf left by a long-dead frond and hoped for the best while knowing he was in for the worst. And now I feel like an asshole for just leaving him there, like he’s my responsibility.