In the summer, around May, I was eating an ice cream sandwich and looking out the window. I saw what appeared to be a fuzzy pinecone. I peered closer and saw a baby bird. It had fallen out of its nest and was shaking. I told my father and he told me to bring it in. Naturally I thought it was a bad idea, but he saw it was dying and wanted to save it. I brought it inside and let my father check for injuries. After I had brought a Tim Horton’s iced capp lid and lined it with napkins, my father had already located the injury. The poor bird had a nasty gash on her side, under her wing! She was clearly not supposed to leave her nest, as she did not have all her feathers and her bottom was bare. I tried to keep her calm and dribbled a few drops of water into her mouth. I stayed with her for the entire day and forgot about my homework. Also, my ice cream sandwich had melted. What a waste. But I didn’t care. I wanted to save this bird. After an hour of this, the bird was healthier and could stand up and walk around. I decided to bring her outside to search for the mother. I also named her Umbra. When I walked outside, a older grackle went nuts. So I set her down on the deck and waited. After awhile, the mother returned with a bug and fed the baby. I was so happy! I thought for sure that the bird was going to die. But there was still one more problem. How would we keep her safe during the night? I had seen many raccoons and cats that would gladly eat Umbra, and I had even noticed a vixen living in our shed. (No our backyard is only half an acre. The vixen does not bother us, and she is gone now) I cam up with a plan. I put the baby in a cardboard box outside for the night. When I woke up the next day, she was fine! We carried on like this until she could fly again. Umbra now lives in our backyard, occasionally squawking at me as if to say “Remember me? I spent a few nights living in your box!”
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