BYE BYE BIRDIE

Kate’s in a flap when a sparrow falls from the sky

One of the many beauties and bonuses of rural living is the bird life. We have the most amazing collection of winged creatures at our place and we still marvel at them each time we see them.

Herons, kingfishers, tui, kereru, hawks, parakeets ... they’re so beautiful to watch.

We also have the less beautiful and more annoying birds like pukeko, which like to rip up all the new plantings – and they also terrorise the ducklings, which is not cool.

We have a variety of ducks, but my favourite are the paradise ducks. They travel in a pair, are always together and they mate for life. They’re the cutest. Even though they’re overly friendly and like to

come up to the front door and poo everywhere, I still think they’re cute.

I’m telling you about the birds because unfortunately the other day a frisky wee sparrow flew straight at our glass doors and concussed itself – boom, flat on its back, legs in the air, out cold. I was convinced it was dead.

“Oh no!” my daughter wailed when she saw it lying there. “We have to help him!”

Putting the dog in another room so as not to traumatise the bird, we slowly opened the door to check on our injured little friend.

“Mum, what can we do?” my daughter pleaded.

“I think he’s dead,” I said like the terrible mother I am, laying out the facts as I gruesomely observed them.

At that moment my husband, not someone I’d pick as a bird-rescue kind of guy, appeared and assessed the situation. “I think he’s stunned, not dead. He’ll be right in a moment, just you wait.”

My daughter waited. No sign of life. “We have to do more!” she pleaded again.

We got some water and soaked a little piece of bread in it, and tried to offer it to our stunned bird. “He’ll be fine, just wait,” my ever-optimistic husband continued. “He’ll come right when he’s ready.”

“I think he’s dead and this is cruel, babe,” I replied. “She’s going to just squat here staring at a dead bird for hours waiting for it to wake up.”

But just then, with lots of coaxing from my daughter and faith from my husband, the sparrow suddenly flipped back up onto its feet and looked around at us. It blinked at us as if to say, “Hey guys, what happened there?”

“OMG,” I sighed at my husband. “You were right, it is alive.”

The sparrow stood shakily on its feet as my daughter offered up encouraging words and more bread. Tempted, it moved slightly closer to it. Eventually, it found the fortitude and strength to fly … and off it went.

“Amazing,” my daughter cooed as it fluttered into the distance.

“That’s just what they do,” announced my husband, newly minted bird whisperer and self-proclaimed rescue doctor.