Jack Sparrow

Attending a wedding luncheon at the Victory Hotel at Sellicks Hill a few weeks ago it was 42degrees. High under a tin roof sparrow nestlings were literally jumping from their nest to avoid cooking to death. Only 1 with a few tiny feathers survived the fall to the concrete 5 meters below. The hotel staff when approached offered to 'ring his neck'. I took the tiny fledgeling home and called him Jack after the Pirate Jack Sparrow of  movie fame. With advice from the fauna rescue service I raised him. His house was  a fluffy bed sock and I hand fed him hourly by syringe and a cut straw spoon. A few weeks later and he's feeding himself, flying and ready to be released back at the Victory next week. Sparrows can live for 15 years and are very sociable and gregarious and because they are not territorial there's a good chance Jack will be accepted back into his family flock. I'm going to ask Doug the owner if I can put a feeder up for the first few weeks, maybe a small nesting box away from the tin roof and a laminated note to introduce Jack to the patrons. So if you're at the Victory Hotel out in the garden and a little sparrow lands on your shoulder and starts tweeting in your ear, say hello to little Jack for me and be sure to leave him some crumbs.
Di

Welcome Swallow

On a particularly hot day, I discovered a Welcome Swallow laying prostrate on the hot bricks in front of my office window. It would not have been long before he expired. He was really gasping. I picked him up and brought him inside in the cool and offered him some water in a spoon, which he sipped. He seemed to revive, but was quite happy to stay in my hand. I kept him in my hand for an hour or so and offered him more water. I found a little box and lined it with tissues and popped him in. He seem to like being in a small area and appeared quite relaxed. I decided I would release him at home. I put him on a branch of our apricot tree. He stayed long enough for me to take a photo and then flew away. I was so tickled pink that he had recovered enough to fly.
Deb Thompson