“We couldn’t let those little birds die, could we?”

It was not a slight “whistling” sound, but a loud “whistle” that sounded sharp in the ears. I looked from my phone. Where did this sound come from? I quickly found out: a small black-gray bird jumped across the room. A very cute little fluff ball that has some feathers here and there.

“Come and have a look, quick!” she shouted. Upstairs, where my husband used to work. He stumbled and looked as surprised as the bird hopping on the ground. “How do you get in?”

“I don’t know, I just stumbled through the door I guess. Could it be that he fell out of the nest?” I asked, but that question made no sense because my husband had no idea either.

“I think I can hear a whistling sound outside,” my husband said. “We’ll take her outside for a while, maybe some more nest has fallen?” Carefully picking up the bird, the beast allowed itself to willingly swept it away. Outside I put the bird on my finger, just as I did early on with the canary. I loved it all.

After some detective work we found his brother or sister in the bush. I carefully placed the bird on my finger with its relative. At least they’re back together now, I thought comfortably. “I will call 911 for the animals,” Baal said firmly. “There are a lot of cats here, they get eaten right away of course.”

“We can’t let these cute little birds die!” I cried in horror, “This won’t happen! And where is this nest they fell from, I can’t find anything.”

The Animal Ambulance asked questions and promised to come that afternoon. I picked up the kids from school, while my husband in the meantime put the birds in a cardboard box, she advised. It turns out that there was another brother or sister sitting in the garden. Hubby put it there too to make sure.

“Kwik, kwik and Tom,” Olle (7) said as he peered through a hole in the box at the animals. “Awwww,” was all Puk (10) said. “They are so cute!” Every few minutes, the kids would climb into the box to enjoy watching Kwik, Kwik and Tom. “Leave them alone,” I said, “the ambulance is coming soon.” Although it seemed to me that these birds might also find the interest interesting.

We waited an hour, two hours, three hours, but the ambulance never came. Now the sweat was on my back. What were we supposed to do with these birds? We couldn’t keep it in that cardboard box. What about food and drink, or the bird that was undoubtedly looking for her three chicks? Their nest wasn’t in our garden so that was a problem as well.

until death

Soon we are left with those creatures. I can already imagine how a neighbor’s cat would discover the box during its night invasion, and immediately take a bird in its beak, leaving the brothers in dire straits. Or we put those birds inside, they run away, they nibble on a wire and die anyway, as a friend’s rabbit did.

“Shall we take them to the bird sanctuary? They’re about to close, we can barely get there,” she suggested. Then at least the birds were safe. Hubby called animal control. It turns out that they were too busy in an outdoor setting, so a bird sanctuary wasn’t a bad idea.

Hubby started the car, Buck took the box on his lap. An hour later they came back. “Do you know what kind of creatures they were?” “we will?” I asked. “Red breast,” hubby said. “And you know what they do at this time of year?” I asked, “Okay?” Enjoy commuting. They leave the nest. The mother flies back and forth with food so she can fly. I said, “Oh.” “So we actually screwed things up?”

Baal nodded. “The guy from the birdhouse was very friendly. I asked him if we should bring the animals home so they would be close to their mother.” He thought it was a good idea, but one of the brothers was young and weak, so he preferred to take care of it himself.

I said “Oh, lucky.” It was not for nothing that we put those animals in a cardboard box in the dark and pulled them away from their mother and other siblings.

“Then Kwik, Kwik and Tom will still be fine,” I said with relief.

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