So, we have a break in the big city life that I usually describe. A tiny little bird lay on the patio outside the garage apartment in my backyard, and in lieu of The Dog eating it, we picked it up with an old tee-shirt and debated what to do. We looked up and noticed a nest practically perched on the edge of a light fixture, and on closer inspection, saw the two little birds, above, nestled together, there. The whole thing was kind of nasty, to tell you the truth. The little bird had clearly either fallen out or been pushed out by its siblings or Medea, its mother. What to do? We called over Big Strong Manly Neighbor, who inspected the surroundings and agreed that putting the baby back in the nest would probably be futile. I almost don't want to type out what we decided because it seems like heart of darkness material, particularly for those of us who aren't comfortable with -- ahem -- the natural world. We left the little bird in the tee-shirt, on top of an ivy-covered wall that is often frequented by The Neighbors' cats.
I'm going to listen to this, but what would you have done?
