I finally found an excuse to climb the big Eucalyptus tree in our backyard. Several times. Yesterday my wife found a gorgeous – and unusual for our area – baby bird flopping on the ground. Fortunately, she found it before our three wild and crazy dogs did.
It looked like a shore bird – we’re ten minutes inland – with full 
feathers and fledgling little wings. Not big enough to fly, but obviously big enough that it was likely eating solid food, so it wasn’t a fresh hatchling.
We spotted the nest. Of course it was up high in a tree. (Well, “high” relative to someone who’s old enough to know better than to climb trees.) I made my way up the tree, carrying “Sandy” – you know we had to name him/her, right? – and climbed down. And Sandy hurled himself (or herself) out of the nest again.
The next time, I hauled an old birdcage up into the tree, put the nest and Sandy inside, anchored it, and climbed back down. Sandy squeezed through the bars and away he went. Tough little guy. Third time’s a charm, right? I wrapped the cage in newspapers, so he couldn’t worm his way out.
Meanwhile of course, the parents were freaking out, squawking on a nearby roof.
Then we did research. We learned we did everything correct as far as trying to replace a displaced baby bird. We also discovered that Sandy is a Snowy Plover. Yes, a shorebird. The parents likely raised him in our berry briars – not a tree – and he wandered out and couldn’t find his way back. That probably works fine on a secluded beach. Not so in a domestic backyard with dogs and cats.
We called Native Animal Rescue (NAR), and with their advice, brought Sandy in for the night to keep him warm in a box. We’ll felt bad for mom and dad bird, but it was that, or Sandy would go cold. This morning, he was fine. And he’s now in the capable, feeding-by-hand hands of NAR. Stay tuned for an update.
I’m just glad it wasn’t a pigeon.