THE REHABILITATOR
Judith Wakelam, Worlington, Suffolk
In 2002, I found a swift chick by the kerb when out walking my dog. As a keen naturalist, I knew it was a swift and had no chance. Normally, of course, it’s best to leave seemingly abandoned nestlings alone, as the parents will probably be nearby. Swifts are an exception – they’re the one species that can’t come down to feed young that have fallen out of the nest.
But when I tried to get guidance on what to do, there was none. Everyone said I was just wasting my time. So I rang the BTO, who put me on to the late Chris Mead. He was so, so encouraging. And with his help, I was able to do it.
Now that word has got out, I take in 35–45 swift nestlings every year. They come from conservation charities, local vets and direct from the public. They vary from birds a week old to ones that made a mistake and fledged earlier than the average 42 days. Fledging swifts get one chance at flight. If they fluffff it, that’s it.
I feed them in my kitchen, and they live in what was the spare room. When they start to do wing press-ups, they move into a child’s cot. I offer crickets, mealworms and waxworms. Young ones may need up to 10 feeds a day, but close to fledging they want less and less. Now I can ‘read’ the fledging signals. They must reach 38–48g before I release them from my palm in the open – never from an upstairs window. Nothing is more rewarding than to take a creature that belongs in the air and set it free.