The Bird Hospital

by Caroline Crowninshield Bascom

One Sunday in June a small bird a good deal like a sparrow flew into Trinity Church. He flew down the centre aisle, and, evidently drawn to it by the light, perched on the brass cross underneath the exquisite chancel window. When the choir began to sing, he joined in at the top of his voice, then flew over to the bishop’s chair, peeping and chattering away, making himself as conspicuous as possible. Of course, like anything new in church, he took all the attention of the congregation from the minister. From the bishop’s chair, he quickly flew on a girl’s shoulder, who caught him in her hand, and put him on the stone steps outside the door. Here the little traveller was picked up by another little girl, taken to Sunday school with her, and finally was brought to me.

The poor bird was almost famished, and I hurried him up to my hospital, which at that time had but one patient, Theodore Roosevelt, a wild pigeon who had been badly burned by an electric wire. I gave him crackers and milk (it is better for little birds than bread and milk, and easier to swallow), and, when he had had his fill, he tried to tuck his head under his wing and go to sleep. This he had to give up, as he had a large head, but few feathers, and small wings, but he nestled up in my hand and was soon fast asleep.

He was not a handsome little fellow, in fact, he was very homely. Some thought him an English sparrow, but I doubt whether he was, as they are all so timid, and he was far from that, always wilful, and did just about as he pleased.

All day he stayed on my finger or dress, and when it began to grow dark, he discovered the negligée I had on was open at the throat, and a fine place to crawl into. I rocked him to sleep that night, and always after that he would not stay in his basket at night one minute unless I first rocked him to sleep on my bare neck.

Don’t you think Trinata a pretty name? I gave that to him as he went to service at Trinity Church. Every one said he did not know his name, but I thought he did. After he had been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, he ran, or rather, flew, away. I had been trying to sew, and could not keep him off me. He would crawl into the palm of my right hand, and did not seem to care how hard I squeezed him, then into the left, and did not mind a prick or two from the needle. I saw the sewing did not make much headway, so finally I gave up and started to take my work down-stairs. I closed the door, or else he would have flown right after me, but I forgot the blinds were wide open in my dressing-room. He evidently went in there, and the temptation to fly out was too much for him.

On my return to my room, I looked everywhere, and had given up all hopes of ever seeing him again, when I spied three birds down the street, two large ones and a small one, which looked suspiciously like Trinata. When I got near enough, I began to peep, and the large ones flew away, but the little one went hopping along, and when within a few feet I called out “Trinata, Trinata.” He turned in an instant and stopped. I put out my finger and he hopped on. It was noontime, and the street was full of people, who looked with wondering eyes to see a wee bird in the middle of the street hop on my fingers. It proved he knew his name, at any rate, and I was so glad to get him back that, instead of scolding, I was only too glad to give him something to eat and rock him to sleep. He was a forlorn-looking mite, all mud and grass stain, and so tired and faint that he could hardly perch. I think he, too, was glad to get back, for he never ran away again.

One evening a little boy and girl came rushing to me with two filthy baby sparrows. Their legs and claws were so encrusted with “smelly” mud they could not hop. So the first thing was to get as much off as possible before they could be put to bed, and in the morning I gave them a bath in violet water, after which Jack and Jill, for so I named them, looked far better, and Jack turned out to be a perfect beauty.

Trinata became rather jealous of them, and one day, when Jack and Jill were close together on my chest, he hopped down upon my shoulder, wedged himself in between them, and pecked at them until they flew way. Teddy Roosevelt, the pigeon, as was right, lived in the executive mansion, but Trinata did not stand at all in awe of him. He went in to see him quite often, and made his presence known by nipping his toes or pulling his tail feathers. Teddy, however, did not like it, and often he would drive Trinata out.

Jill was very much in love with Jack, and usually would do anything he told her, but one day she thought she would coquette a little and not mind. Jack tried his best to get her to come inside the cage, but she paid not the slightest attention to him. At last he went to the open door, took her by the wing, and pulled her inside just as a mother would take a child. We all thought it very cunning; but the next day, when Trinata seized Jill by the leg, and dragged her way across the floor, I thought it a bit too much, and gave Trinata the good scolding he deserved.

Jack and Jill, however, were really most annoying to Trinata, chasing after him, screeching, and opening their bills very wide, just as if he was their mother and would drop some goodies in. One day he was perched on the window-sill of the executive mansion, when up came Jack and Jill with gaping mouths. In turning to go away, Trinata saw on Teddy’s floor a piece of court-plaster that had come off from his wing. Trinata picked it up and dropped it in Jack’s mouth. He spit it out, and then the tender morsel was thrust down Jill’s throat by Trinata. After that they never begged him to feed them.