This year’s chick rehab season is off to a small, or rather tiny, start. I received a nestling sparrow last night. (At least that’s what I think it is. Newborn chicks are notoriously difficult to identify.) Much to my surprise, this little guy survived the night. He has to be fed every 30 minutes but he’s so small, about an inch long total, the whole process takes about 15 seconds. After he eats, he falls right asleep, meaning he is the ideal baby to have in the house. He makes the faintest squeaking sound to let me know he is starving Here he is waiting for meal 57 of the day and immediately afterwards:

In other chick news, Gwen has decided that her children must be raised in the Taj Mahal. Or at least I have been dutifully delivering sticks every day for at least a month, and I have no confidence that the nest is actually complete. She and S. Crowbert decided to build in a very odd location which has complicated things a great deal. I took a peek at the construction site (behavior that its absolutely verboten) to figure out what material Her Gwenness required. Although she accepted branches and vines, I discovered the hard way that she was partial to something that turned out to be poison ivy (or some cousin). At any rate, I’ve developed a nasty contact dermatitis (to quote the doctor) and so have temporarily halted my nesting material delivery service. She was suspiciously dry at dinnertime (Stephen Crowbert was drenched), so I’m hoping she had a reason beside common sense to stay in the covered part of the enclosure all day. Eggs perhaps?