February 17th, 2005

peewee

Peewee Free

Last week the three youngest and tinyest peewees all died, leaving me with just the three sub-adults and the free one who won't go away. This morning I fed the three in the cage as usual (and the free one, of course, just to shut him up) and opened the door. They stared at the open space for a long while, then one by one stepped outside to walk around the table top. A few miutes later they were testing their wings by zooming around the back yard, circling the trees and doing swoops. After ten minues of this two landed in the sycamore and called to each other. The third must have found it all too big and landed on the table near the cage. He let me pick him up and put him on a perch where he can look through the open door and can go when he's ready. That makes five successful releases, which is slightly more than a third of the rescues.

So for the first time in many months I am peewee free.

...sort of.
  • Current Mood
    accomplished accomplished
peewee

Not so peewee free

I now have three screaming maniacs greet me at the door when I go outside. The youngest one has decided she didn't like hanging around, but the other two have fallen in with the already freed one, and are learning his habits. I'll keep up supplementary feeding and gradually reduce it.
cranky

Peewee Drama

I was relaxing on the patio in the cool of the evening, sipping a coffee and watching the peewees play in the lawn sprinkler. There was a brief shadow overhead and a brown falcon slammed down onto the smallest peewee. The others scattered in fright. The falcon flipped the peewee onto her back and plucked out a beakful of chest feathers.

That's when it received one of Polly's tennis balls to the back of its head. Both birds tumbled over. The peewee flew for safety under the table and the falcon screamed in anger. I shouted at it and waved a stick in the air, like some cro-magnon hunter going for the kill except I don't imagine cro-magnon man ever shouted "That's my bloody PEEWEE ya bastard!" The falcon shot off into the sycamore, and I threw things at it until it left.

I caught the poor freaked out peewee and put her back in her cage. She calmed down a lot and doesn't appear to be injured apart from a bald patch on her chest. The others are hiding in the dense leaves of the Chinese Elm and are very quiet. Poor little bird: one day of freedom then Nature struck. Technically I should have let Nature take its course, but it was my bloody peewee dammit.
  • Current Mood
    anxious anxious