I hear the screech of Mama, Mama, MAMA! From the garden followed by
“help me, help me, I need a Doctor.”
I rush to the open patio door to find toddler (who had been digging up the flowers) cradling what at first glance appeared to be a dog poo.
Oh my god, what is That?
The toddler is trembling,
“Mama, help him, help him call an Ambulance.”
It’s then that I realise that toddler is delicately holding a very poorly looking bird, the Cat is skulking a few steps behind toddler, and looks majorly pissed off.
Oh gosh! Eerm I falter.
“Mama, get a box. He needs a Doctor Mama. (Now shouting) Get a box!”
Apparently the toddler knows better than I do how to care for an ailing bird. I get a box, fill a Tupperware with water, and scan the cupboards for something suitable for the bird to eat.
“Granola Mama. It has seeds in it. Granola in the cupboard.”
It’s at this point I realise that toddler has clearly been moonlighting as a vet. He seems much more sure what to do than me!
We put the bird in the box, along with the water and lots of kictchen towelling shaped in the form of a haphazard nest. I leave the granola for the time being, and tell the toddler that we must leave the bird to rest.
After a few minutes we hear scratching from inside the box, and the bird is making his bid for freedom, I’m not sure at this point if it’s because he’s feeling better, or because he’s realised this house is crazy loud, and he’d prefer to take his chances outside. We open the door, and let the bird take in his surroundings, after a few seconds he flaps his wings and he’s off!
“Oh no mama, birdie crashed”
Oh Sh*t he has. He’s flown straight in to the fence.
We scoop the bird up and put him back in his cardboard house.
After Googling, I realise the best thing is to take the poor creature to the local vet. I call the vets to tell them I’m on my way, and whilst my back is turned toddler throws some Granola in the box.
I arrive at the vets. Make a rambling apology for the cereal coated bird, and exit as quickly as I can.
Hopefully he’ll be ok!