The Bird Hospital

by Caroline Crowninshield Bascom

My new patient was very hungry, so I had no trouble in getting her to take the cracker soaked in milk. The third day I put her into a canary cage (but covered), as I thought I better try and teach her to stay in a cage some of the time, and not always have her liberty, as the dear departed Cady did. She behaved unusually well, and I kept her in that for several days, taking her out many times to stretch and flop her wings.

I was then fortunate enough to have a large parrot cage loaned me. She showed great delight when I put her in, as she had plenty of room to go about, and did not show the slightest desire to get out. I knew she could if she wished, as the brass wires were very wide apart.

I was detained down-stairs, and it was later than usual when I went up to put her to bed in her cot. As I went into the room, I saw there was no baby bird in the cage.

I called out: “Oh, my baby has gone,” and a very mournful peep came back to me, which plainly said: “I am over here in this dark corner.” She had evidently tried to find me, but did not know the way down-stairs. That was the first and last time she ever ran away.

Blondell and Dona Marina had been the only occupants in the hospital for three years, with the exception of a few stray patients who only lived a very short time.

At first Dona Marina did not know what to make of the robin. She knew it was entirely different from Blondell, and watched it hopping all over the floor with the greatest interest, as Blondell usually stayed in her cage. For a few days I watched her very carefully when the robin was on the floor, but she soon understood she was not to touch it, and would lie on the rug and go to sleep, while the robin played about her.

Two weeks after I rescued the robin from the jaws of death, I saw another baby robin in the back yard. The floodgates of heaven were opened wide, and the rain coming down in perfect torrents. I could not see or hear any father or mother bird, but there was a large white cat who had his eyes upon her. I spent most of my time for an hour with one eye on the bird and the other on the cat. At last I succeeded in frightening the cat away, and, as it grew dark, the bird flew up on to the grape-vine, then into a small tree. It had not stopped raining one minute, and I could not bear to think of that dear baby up in a tree all night alone, with a prospect of the white cat making his breakfast upon it.

When it became quite dark, I took a chair out under the tree, stood up on it, reached up and put my hand over the bird. I soon found it had good lungs, and also found it was a beauty, so did not mind being covered with mud and getting almost as wet as the bird. I felt sure it was a male bird, and that the first one was a female, as that was so much lighter in colouring.

I dried orphan number two, and put him to sleep in a cot, just as I did orphan number one. The next morning I told her all that I have told to you, then brought the little stranger and put him inside the cage, expecting she would be more than pleased to have a relative for a companion, but, alas, no. I never was more mistaken in my life. She put up all the feathers in her crest, looking like a wild “Indian,” spread her wings, and was not only ready to fight, but pitched right in. The little stranger was more afraid of her than he was of the white cat, and it did not take him many seconds to get out between the bars, and fly to me for protection. But, after a few days, they became good friends, and slept every night in the cage side by side in the swing.

Then came a great discussion, “What shall I name the robins?” but it was settled for me by having the little book I spoke of sent me.