Milo the cat decided that a baby mockingbird would be a lovely late evening snack on Friday night. We heard a shrieking/squealing out in the front, ran out, and discovered a fat little fledgling hopping/half flying around the yard with Milo in lazy pursuit, adopting an attitude like "you can run, but you can't hide (yawn)." We scooped up the bird and set it inside a cat carrier for the night so it could recover from shock. The photo shows it sitting inside our hot pink carrier. Isn't that the grumpiest face you've ever seen?
We released it back into our hedge Saturday morning, hoping it would find its nest and/or attract the attention of one of its adults to come feed it. (I learned through a Google search that fledglings still depend on adults for feeding for up to two weeks after learning to fly). We listened most of the day to its hopeful/sad calls and chirps and waited to see if an adult took interest. Nope.
Birdie ended up back in the front yard around 4pm, flailing around, Fat Sparkle sitting within paw's reach, fascinated. I called animal control and learned we could bring it into our local shelter and they'd take it in. Whew! The woman at the desk reported that several had come in this week, the latest just an hour before ours. She said they get cocky at this age and "take on too much."
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