It had been a hectic day at the
Centre with non-stop admissions of
orphaned birds and injured birds.
By 8 p.m., the babies had settled
down for the night after their late feedings
and the volunteers had
gone home for their own well deserved dinners.
Final rounds of
rooms and bird patients had been done.
Lights had been turned off.
The Centre was quiet.
I was tired, I was hungry, I was going home...or
so I thought.
Approaching the door to leave, it suddenly
opened and standing in
front of me was a very distressed couple
with their two very distressed
children and in their hands, wrapped in
a towel, was a distressing
baby bluejay.
As they handed the bird to me, they explained
that they had been out
for a family walk along a nearby stream
when they had spotted a
flash of blue in the water where a fence
extended across the stream.
Getting closer, they realized that it was
a bird, tangled in debris at the
waterline with the head and most of the
body submerged in water.
They lived five minutes from the Centre
so they had driven over with
it immediately.
The young bluejay in my hands felt dead.
It was soaking wet, cold
rigid and unconscious. It wasn't
moving. It didn't appear to be
breathing and I couldn't hear a heartbeat.
I started to tell the family
that it was too late when I felt its head
move slightly. While it gave
the family hope that the bird was actually
still alive, I had to explain
that it was death throes. I would
need to euthanize it. Their faces fell.
The bluejay slowly contorted its head back
towards its tail.
The youngest child looked up at me..."Its
a baby bluejay, do you think
you can save it?"...with eyes that expected
a miracle for the asking.
I thought no, but a few minutes more wasn't
going to cause further
suffering for the bird...it wasn't aware
of anything. So I said "We'll
try..."
Turning the hairdryer to high, the drying
and warming process began.
Ten minutes passed. the drenched
feathers were dry and fluffy but the
little body in my hands was still frigid.
It hadn't moved again and its
eyes were still closed. Shaking my
head slightly as I glanced at the
family, the adults understood my signal...the
children never moved
their eyes from the baby bluejay.
More minutes passed. The wings suddenly
and slowly stretched
open, flaring unnaturally under its stomach
and its head contorted
over its back. I thought this is
its final moment...sorry kids. I gently
tucked the wings back to its side and brought
the head forward.
Nothing happened. Then its beak opened,
stayed open. It was trying
to breathe but I could hear gurgling...water
in the lungs. Artificial
respiration for birds? Situation
hopeless, try anything. So I began
applying light finger pressure to both
lungs. That seemed to help.
I was rewarded with a weak, wheezy sounding
cry.
Half an hour had passed. Despite the
constant heat being applied
from the hairdryer, the bird's body temperature
had barely changed.
And despite some occasional sporadic movements,
I didn't anticipate
a positive outcome.
The next fifteen minutes were the best fifteen
minutes of the month!
A foot twitched, both legs extended, pulled
back, toes clenched...the
tail flared out, tipped up, tipped down...the
head moved, not reaching
backwards for death this time...an eye
opened slowly, not
comprehending, closed again, then both
eyes opened together, closed
in exhaustion, slept, opened again, aware...
I put my finger under its feet for a perch.
It gripped, hung on, but
couldn't stand by itself and fell over
to the side without support at
first. Minutes later, still swaying,
still holding onto my finger, it took a
look around, shuffled its feathers, fell
over again, regained its balance,
and started to preen.
I watched as it took its first short flight
from the treatment table to the
top of lamp in the room. In the space
of one hour, this baby bluejay
had been literally pulled from the brink
of death many times over, and
was now looking around the room and at
the people watching it as if
to say "what's the fuss?"...and amazing
everyone there except the
child who had expected a miracle for the
asking.
Many miracles
Kathy Nihei
Director, Wild Bird Care Centre