Rebel without a cause

This is how I find MiniMe the morning after the kayak rescue. Tuesday morning, March 25th. After it recuperated. After it got all dried out. After it jumped out of the tree trying to get fed, in the cold, pouring rain. After checking on Mm until 2:30 am and finally going to bed.

Tuesday morning so, so pitiful
Tuesday morning: so, so pitiful

I am as beside myself as surely as MiniMe is. I find a window in my house, from which kneeling on a stool, I can observe it to see if a parent will come to feed MiniMe. They only feed the other, stronger owlet. The one that is in a tree, can fly from branch to branch and can climb.

This is nature. The survival of the fittest. Darwin. Adapt or die.

MiniMe does not move for over three hours. It is shivering. Shaking. It does nothing to help itself. Not even a weak peep.

This is it. Every time I look, I expect the worst.  Keeled over. I consider grief counseling. You know, the kind when a beloved pet dies. Then I finally come to my senses and get the electric heater.

Beginning to dry out
Beginning to warm up and dry out

Since it is raining, I am terrified that I am going to fry it, or electrocute it or myself. Now it is late afternoon. MiniMe has stopped shaking and is drying out. It hears a parent’s call.

MiniMe hears its Mother's call
MiniMe hears its Mother’s call

MiniMe picks itself up and walks into the garden to the sound of its Mom’s voice, squawking all the way. Tears of joy. Just maybe…I won’t need that grief counseling after all.

Scott came home not knowing if he would find me in tears, under the covers or building an aviary out of our back porch.

Mom arrives with dinner, a cedar waxwing
Mom arrives with dinner, a cedar waxwing
Mom feeds Big Sib first
Mom feeds Big Sib first

MiniMe manages to get through the garden behind the azaleas. Mom eventually drops in. I am afraid to even move inside the house. Mm desperately needs to be fed. Some of the photos are fuzzy, shot through glass or screens.

I am feeling much better now
Asking for divine intervention?
Asking for divine intervention? Thanking me?
Mm begins another journey, this time across land instead of the marsh
And  again, Mm begins another journey, this time across land instead of the marsh

I try to head Mm off. I explain that it is not well enough to travel, especially by foot (or talon). I am persuasive, calm but firm in my arguments but it is having none of it!

All I get is the blank stare
All I get is the blank stare

Does one of her pupils look dilated? Concussion? Owl drugs? Delusional? Mental health issues?

Once again, there is no stopping MiniMe. So once again, I go to sleep wondering where in the world I will find Mm in the morning….

I am not making this up. Not any of it. Not one single bit.

I would like to take a moment to explain that we have a whole group of neighbors along the marsh that have been on owl and owlet watch at all times of the day and night. We text each other, call, confer, commiserate, debate, search each others yards, walk and stalk the docks, borrow rescue tools from garden and boat sheds, lend support and binoculars and share experiences. And so far they have not called the folks in the white coats to come get me. Thank you. Thank you for your support, help, blog ideas, and humor – especially when things seem dire, your trust, your caring – for me and for the owlets.

No matter what happens, it has been an amazing, awesome experience. Every night for the past week or more, the question of the night is “Where will MiniMe be in the morning?”

I wonder….

 

 

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