From early childhood, my parents instilled in me an idea: “Everything happens for the best.” Later in life, I discovered a biblical foundation behind this encouraging phrase, which left me with no room for doubt. Still, I haven’t quite mastered the art of flawlessly following divine truths — so in moments when things go completely awry, I tend to turn into Grumpy (yes, the dwarf) at the speed of light, promptly forgetting my parents’ wise words.
That’s exactly what happened on the morning of May 24.
Still snuggled under a fluffy, warm comforter, my brain wandered through the hazy corridors of sleep and consciousness, reluctant to leave the cozy bed for the air-conditioned chill of the room. I had grand plans that day, as my husband’s older brother and his wife had come to visit.
The purpose of their visit was the men’s desire to experience that delightful lightheadedness, the sought-after tingling of fresh blisters on their feet, to exhaust themselves thoroughly, and then savor their bruises, cuts, and sore muscles for the next three days. In short, Chris (my husband) and Adam (my brother-in-law) were off on a 20-mile uphill day hike.
Meanwhile, Anastasia (my sister-in-law) and I had a different vision for the day: a relaxing road trip, hopping from one picturesque spot to another across scenic Macon County. That was the plan, until a nagging thought struck me the moment I woke up: “Did my dear husband remember to leave me the car keys?” Spoiler alert: never doubt a wife’s intuition.
At this point, the Snow White and Seven Dwarfs reference probably makes more sense. But the fairy tale parallels didn’t end there.
Frustrated and unsure what to do next, Anastasiia and I found ourselves sipping cappuccinos at Bent Willow Café, tossing around ideas for the day. Every suggestion was dismissed on the grounds of distance because we had no car. When the café began to close, we had no choice but to start walking home. Heads low, we ambled slowly down Franklin’s Main Street, when Anastasiia noticed a sudden movement near one of the buildings.
A baby rat? she thought. No; it was a tiny, bald, baby bird. Nearby lay its sibling, lifeless. We looked around, but there was no nest in sight. Without much hesitation, we scooped up the fragile creature.
Google Maps confirmed what we feared: no nearby vet clinics were open on Saturdays. So, we decided to head to The Pet Stop of Franklin, which was within walking distance. On the way, we managed to call ahead and explain the situation. By the time we made it to the store, we were kindly greeted by two professionals who gave us advice on feeding frequency, diet, care, and warmth for our little one. I stood wide-eyed, listening to instructions on how and in what quantity to chop up worms for this baby’s breakfast.
Having never before faced such a serious responsibility, Anastasiia and I continued our walking tour of Franklin, now with a new mission: find a heat lamp. Our mother-in-law remembered that Chris had a friend from his Marine Corps days who lived in Franklin and ran a farm. She guessed, correctly, that he might just have the lamp we needed.
And so, a Saturday that began in total disappointment ended up becoming one of unexpected wonder. Chip, the name the little sparrow received thanks to my talented husband, who speaks not only English and German but apparently also “bird.” Chris kept addressing the chick with “chip-chip-chip,” and the name stuck. In two weeks, Chip not only grew stronger and covered himself in fluffy feathers, but also learned to fly. Now I feel like Snow White every time this little one lands on my head or shoulders.
Bringing up baby
When we reached out to the Highlands Biological Station, we were told they do not take in birds. Instead, they directed us to the North Carolina Wildlife Commission in Raleigh five hours away. We knew we would not make that trip and, instead, decided to raise the chick ourselves and prepare it for life in the wild.
Here are the most important factors we learned when it comes to finding a baby bird that has fallen from its nest:
- Assess the situation.
- Fully feathered and hopping around? It’s a fledgling; parents are likely nearby. Don’t interfere.
- Bare or partially feathered? It’s a nestling and needs help.
- Try to return it to the nest.
- If you can see the nest and reach it safely, gently place the bird back.
- The myth that birds reject chicks touched by humans is false.
- Make a temporary nest if needed.
- Use a small bucket, box, or basket with drainage holes.
- Line it with soft material and secure it near the original spot.
- Watch from a distance for 1 to 2 hours to see if parents return.
- Consult professionals if the parents do not return.
- Research sites and/or reach out to wildlife rehab centers, ornithologists, pet stores, etc.
Vital Reminders
- Never feed birds bread, milk, or porridge.
- Warmth is crucial. We built a warm nest using a diaper and a lot of straw.
- Never give them water directly; baby birds get hydration from food. Trying to make them drink can cause pneumonia and death.
- Don’t keep the bird longer than necessary.
- A chick’s metabolism is super fast. A nestling needs to be fed very often, about every 30 minutes. Ideally, follow its cues and feed it when it asks.
- It needs space to fly — meaning a large, safe area is required.
- It needs your attention. Consider this before taking on the care of a chick.
Before letting a rescued bird go, evaluate if it can survive alone. Is it fully developed and flying? Can it feed itself without begging you for food? Will other birds accept it? For Chip, the safest option might be to experience freedom within our property, away from cars and people, and with a feeder nearby, just in case.
This article highlights the essentials of nestling rescue, but it is not an exhaustive guide. If you find yourself in a similar situation, consult with professionals. Visit the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission website or call (919)707-0010.