This story was written in the mid-1960’s while living in Champaign, Illinois.
We were living in the South American city of Cali, Colombia when our ten-year-old daughter, Peggy, came running through the house holding something close to her breast. “Here!” she exclaimed at the same time carefully holding something for me to see. A baby bird looked up dolefully at me. I tried to be enthusiastic, but we had tried unsuccessfully to raise several motherless birds in the year that we had lived in Colombia. Despite our best efforts to raise them all had died, to the despair of our four children.
This little bird looked so weak I didn’t see how it could live very long either. “We found it under the tree across the street,” Peggy stated. “I tried to see if there was a nest, and I think there was one way up high, but…” I knew the tree she meant, and it was far too high for anyone to climb. It looked like the baby bird’s future was in our hands. “I remember reading in our new bird book to feed foundlings suet,” our oldest daughter, Jan, volunteered. “What is suet?” the other children wanted to know. The news of the foundling had travelled fast, and our own children, as well as several playmates, were now trying to see the little lost bird. I explained that suet is the hard fat found around the kidney and loin of mutton or beef. I also said that I didn’t know if suet would be good for this kind of bird and thought we should first try to find out what kind it was, and then see what this species feeds upon.
In the meantime, we gave him a drink by dipping our fingers into a bowl of water and pressing lightly on the top of his beak. He would then open his mouth slightly, swallowing the drops as they dripped down. He drank eagerly, but his eyes had a dazed look, and his little head drooped as he slumped exhausted to the bottom of the box. Peggy took him to her room so he could have a quiet rest.
When her father came home, he identified the bird as a Western Flycatcher (Tyraanus Melancalichus) common in Colombia and Central America, as well as in the midwestern United States.
We learned that they are friendly birds as well as helpful to farmers and gardeners since they feed on many kinds of insects. The Western Flycatcher is light brown or tan with a yellow breast, the male being more colorful than the female, as is true of most birds. They also feed on various seeds from local trees and shrubs.
We tried catching him insects, but he was so weak he apparently had no interest in eating, at least not from our fingers. Later that day, Peggy made a nest for him in an old Easter egg basket by putting twigs, leaves, and grass in the bottom. Deciding he needed some fresh air; she took him outside placing the basket on a high curbing while she played nearby.
A short time later she came running back into the house calling excitedly for us to come. She pointed up into the tree by the curbing and to our surprise, there were the mother and father bird on a branch just about ten feet above the place where the Easter basket stood. They were chattering excitedly to each other, seemingly about their lost baby bird.
We stepped inside the house again so as not to frighten them away, but all the while watching from the window. When she was satisfied that we were gone, the mother flew down for a quick look at her baby, then flew away out of sight. The father stood guard on the branch above. In a few minutes the mother returned, resting for a second with her mate. In her mouth was a large butterfly. She cheeped in a muted way that seemed to be a message to the baby below. As we watched, he opened his mouth wide as only a baby bird can do. He had understood his mother. In an instant she swooped down and stuffed the butterfly into his throat. She didn’t take time to perch on the edge of the basket but hovered in the air just long enough to feed her fledgling; then off she flew. This time the baby bird watched the sky anticipating his mother’s appearance. She returned with another bug in her beak, again cheeping softly. His mouth popped open as if on signal. She dropped down depositing another morsel in the hungry mouth. Father bird went after the next insect. Back and forth they flew, taking turns, one always remaining on guard until his mate appeared. When darkness came, Peggy carried him in his basket back into the house. He was full and sleepy now. Almost at once, he tucked his little head under his wing and was asleep, a far healthier bird that we she had found him a few hours earlier.
At dawn the next morning, I was awakened by Peggy’s footsteps. She was running up the stairs to our rooftop terrace with the bird. She said that she had been awakened by the baby bird’s cheeping and thought she heard his anxious parents calling to him from outside. She had run out to see, and it was them! She decided to put him on the roof so they could feed him undisturbed by people or possible cats, dogs or other predators.
His parents found him almost immediately and seemed delighted judging from all the cheeping and chirping that went on as soon as Peggy was out of sight.
The same feeding process as the day before commenced and continued through the morning, each parent taking his turn, alternately guarding and fetching insects and seeds from nearby trees. Continuously they flew back and forth. A stray bird approached and was quickly chased away. Our little foster bird was getting so full that several times we saw him yawn and out would pop one of the shiny black seeds from his crop onto the terrace floor. This would always bring giggles from the children who bird-watched at every opportunity. The birds continued to bring their baby an amazing quantity of food. When it rained that afternoon, we hung the basket under the eaves of the house. The parents perched on a nearby television aerial throughout the downpour.
Again, that night he slept in the Easter basket near Peggy’s bed. We were afraid to leave him out at night for fear an owl or rat might find him. But Peggy took him out to greet his anxious parents early the next morning as before. The story was repeated for four days, the baby bird’s parents literally stuffing him full all day long.
The fifth morning we discovered that our ‘baby’ could fly from one side of the basket to the other. He was trying out his wings. Peggy’s father told her that he would soon be leaving his nest for good to join his parents. She begged to keep him, arguing that he was tame now and was at this point even eating live insects from our fingers. But he wisely pointed out that it would be almost impossible to provide him with enough insects and with the right kinds of seeds necessary for his digestive system. Besides, how could we deprive his devoted parents of the son they had so faithfully fed and watched through what must have been a trying period for them.
As the day progressed, so did the chirping. Finally, at about noon the chatter on the roof was so loud I went up to see what it was all about. He was not in his basket! I frantically looked everywhere. Then I stopped to listen. Yes, I heard his familiar little cheep-cheep. I saw him! There he was on the eave of our neighbor’s house whose roof adjoined ours, as most all the houses in Cali are joined together. He looked over at me when I called him, then looked away. He was no longer a helpless fledgling, but a creature of the wild.
I called the children to come watch. As we stood there, we saw his mother flying back and forth above him, over the television aerial and back again to the nearby tree. Each time she called to him, as if to say, “Follow me. Come on and try. Your wings are strong now. You can do it.” She flew directly over him again and again. He would cheep, stretch his wings and neck and cheep at her again. She swooped down with a big bug for him once, as if to give him that extra little bit of nourishment he needed for his first flight.
Suddenly, he flapped his wings! Away he flew as hard as he could and plop, onto the nearest branch of the tree. His mother was immediately beside him. His mouth opened wide, expectantly, for his reward, but she had to fly off to catch another bug which she promptly did. Daddy bird sat proudly on the aerial throughout the whole operation. While we stood watching our little protégé in wonder, daddy bird flew not ten feet from where we were standing by the terrace railing He paused a moment on the far end of the same railing almost as if to say, “Thank you for taking such good care of our son when we were helpless to do so ourselves.” Then, off he flew to rejoin his family.
For several days afterwards we could hear the baby’s familiar chirping from the nearby trees, and we often thought we saw his parents hunting food for him. After the cheeping stopped, we knew that he had learned to fend for himself and was at last enjoying his winged freedom.
