Gwen and Stephen are done for this breeding season. Minion Man found egg #2 by the door and egg #3 disappeared. We can only suppose that the first two eggs didn’t hatch because of the wet/cold May and Gwen disposed of egg #3 because it was too late in the season to bother with. (Faithful readers will remember she unceremoniously dumped the omega chick two seasons ago when it hatched too long after the others.)
Rehabbing continues a pace; this morning I took in my 50th bird of the season. Demographics: a glut of robins (26 at last count), some blue jays, woodpeckers, flickers, grackles, starlings, sparrows, and even a cardinal. The latter didn’t last long as it had a broken back, but it stayed around long enough to teach me that those critters can bite and are not very interested in letting go once they’ve done so.
And we have a special guest star of a fledgling crow. He arrived in a cardboard box marked “Crow.” No paperwork, no indication of where he is from, so I can’t return him to his parents. Gwen and Stephen were not interested in fostering, so I have him in an enclosure with some blue jays for company. He requires that pinkie mice be served every few hours, although fruit or dog food is an acceptable substitute on occasion. Picking up food himself does not seem to be an option. Like human toddlers with stairs, he is very good at flying up to the high perch but not so good at flying back down, so he perches up top and yammers until he screws up the courage to attempt a landing.
Update: A second fledgling crow arrived this afternoon. He’s a little younger and can’t fly yet but is pretty good at running around, especially if I’m trying to get him to eat. I’ve named them after the Madagascar penguins because why not.
And then we have Millennial Grackle, aka “Millie.” I released her yesterday morning, she flew off, galavanted all day and then at dinner time reappeared demanding food. I left some kibble, which she ate and flew off. This morning she dive bombed me, begged for breakfast, and then zoomed off again. She now reappears every couple of hours, clings to the screen porch when I’m dealing with the other birds, makes a racket, and then perches on the railing at the back door waiting for me to appear with food. Tomorrow I expect her to show up with a huge bag of grackle-laundry.