The Chickadee Story

Sometimes nature is magical; other times it is brutally cruel; most times it is somewhere in the middle.  This story definitely straddles the middle ground.  It started about 5 weeks ago when a pair of Black-capped chickadees laid 8 eggs in Nest Box #5 on our land.  Those 8 eggs all hatched right in the middle of a brutal cold spell. Which makes it very hard for the parents to find the insects and spiders that the babies need to grow.  

So fast forward a few weeks after the chicks hatched.  They should have fledged on about Day 16.  Yesterday was Day 18 and, finally, some of the babies fledged.  If you read my blip yesterday, you'll know that the fledge didn't go all that well and yours truly had to scurry around and capture one baby who couldn't fly.  I went to bed last night knowing that there were still at least 2 more young in the box.

This morning, before even making my tea, I hurried down to where the box is located.  First thing I saw was one of the parents dive-bombing a chipmunk about 20 feet from the box.  Sure enough, there was a very small fledgling on the ground near the chippie.  I rushed to the rescue, scooping it up and putting it in a tree.  Then quickly got on the phone with an avian rescue group here in the County for some advice.  

Very long story short.  I ended up assisting two very small fledglings who were completely unable to fly to the edge of the woods.  I hung out to be sure the parents knew where they were.  Some time later I checked and could not find either one.  Perhaps they dropped down to the ground and scuttled off; perhaps they were taken by a predator; perhaps they managed to climb higher in the tree.  Outcome unknown and that weighs very heavy on my heart.  I finally opened the nest box and found one dead nestling inside which was very sad indeed.  I buried him in the garden - only seemed right.  

I always get very invested in the outcome of my nest boxes.  I've never had a dead nestling - ever.  I've never had young fledge who were so unable to fly.  My theory is that the parents may have been inexperienced.  They certainly had early challenges with weather and lack of food, even though I supplemented them with live meal worms.  Certainly the young didn't develop at the normal pace.  

Anyway, today's image is the second youngster I rescued this morning.  One of the parents was up higher in the tree and he was lustily peeping, asking to be fed.  I should also add that when I was able to scoop him up, he peeped loudly and struggled mightily. He was wet from struggling through the wet grass. His grip on my finger was like super-glue.  I hope he somehow manages to survive.  Another shot in extra as I was putting him on the branch - you can see how tiny he was.

Stay safe.  Stay socially distant.  Be kind...

xo
Debbi