So this little fledgling that turned up on the doorstep. As I’ve said, he hung around our front door for 5 hours after a nest got blown over – and there was an adult bird dead that we had to clean up. That he – and a sibling – hung around for 5 hours showed that there weren’t any worried parents.
So, into an outhouse w”em. One died, Jack was not eating. But, he survived two days, so, tough little bugger. At which point, into the cat box (no, we no longer have cats, but we do have lots of storage space, outbuildings, see?) and feeds of well soaked cat biscuits etc. Three pieces of kitty kibble every couple of hours. He’d gargle that amount and no more.
So, 7 days of this and this morning I moved him back to an outbuilding. So he can practice flying without wifey moaning about birdshit on the furniture. He could fly, but, well, bit variable.
This evening? Open the door to see if he’d been eating, mebbe feed him by hand? Whhhhr, Spitfire leaving France in 1940 just past my head and off. He got over the hedge and I went to see. From there, straight up onto the garage roof. Then off over to next door’s roof. OK, so he can fly, right proper, if he wants to.
Not sure he really knows how to eat, he was still gawping to be fed. But, well, he’ll find out and I won’t and there we are.
At a guess he’s 16 to 18 days, which is about the right time for this anyway.
Yes, obviously, he’s going to end up in the food chain. But then so does everything – us too. The interesting question is always how soon. I suspect it will be soon for Cap’n Jack but it’s at least a week later than it would have been. And who knows. Tough little bugger (and could be Jill, a buggerette, bird sexing is not my thing), can fly up onto a roof when he wants to. So, you know, good luck?
*What in buggery else are you going to call a sparrow?