Friday, October 9, 2009

Sage's Birdie

What did my beloved little bunny wish for on her birthday? Why, what makes her happiest.. an animal to rescue and nurse!

Battling it out with my printer I decided to go out to my parents to test it on their system, if it failed there too, I’d bury it. So I pack up various electronics and almost trip over a rabbit at the door. What noise does a bird in distress make? I have no idea, but apparently my rabbit knows, because she wouldn’t let me out the door without letting her out. Having learnt from the LAST time, I made her put on her harness and out we went.

There was a birdie on the lawn. I had camera in hand so I took a picture of the birdie as Sage dragged me down the steps. I took another couple of pictures while Sage crept up on the birdie. Poor birdie hopped away, probably thinking Sage was a cat. It didn’t even try to use its wings. Oh wonderful, I thought, she’s found another wounded animal.

Deciding I didn’t want a cat getting the poor thing, I tossed Sage back in the house (She was most unamused), grabbed a cardboard box and stalked a poor little wild birdie .. through the bracken and bushes. Finally caught him in the box and brought him inside, gave him a dish of water and went down to the corner store and picked up some bird seed. If he was an insect eater, he was S.O.L, ‘cause I was NOT digging for worms!!

Sage sat beside the kitchen table, periscoped the whole time the birdie was up there. I transferred him to the small bunny cage (“The glorified guinea pig cage”) and he sat down on the newspaper with a chirp. Watching him not move either wing, I was thinking maybe he broke his keel bone. Anyway, so he sat there and I decided to leave him be, absence would probably make him a bit happier to eat/drink without a human about. I phoned my vet to ask if he had any advice, he said chances are if I caught it, it wouldn’t live much longer and all I can really do is make it comfortable.

About thirty minutes Sage started thumping up a storm, I came back to find that the birdie I’d been calling “Yimmer” had passed away. I picked Sage up to see into the cage and she sighed and wiggled out of my hands to get back on the chair beneath the table and then hopped off to go lie under the bed in the spare bedroom. I took Yimmer out and buried him in the back yard.

So not the best birthday all around for poor Sagie.

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