Little Stories from Birdcraft Sanctuary 



By MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT 



I. A HUMMINGBIRD WAIF 



OUR lo-acre Sanctuary, with its enclosing wire fence, was primarily 

 intended as an isle of safety for birds on their travels as well as birds 

 at home, but almost as soon as it became even locally known came 

 the constant inquiry — "Have you a bird hospital? Do you care for maimed 

 birds or nestlings that have lost their parents or otherwise come to grief?" 



At first the suggestion seemed so good that we entertained it with enthu- 

 siasm; later on it appeared that the idea could be overworked to the verge of 

 folly. Children, eager to help and at the same time gain recognition, would 

 capture young birds, often in their first, ill-steered flight, that if left alone 

 would have been perfectly well able to care for themselves, aided by overhead 

 parental advice, etc. 



In due course this misapplied aid was better directed, so that the birds 

 brought in for care were those fatally injured or those with perhaps a sprained 

 wing, or some minor trouble that a few days' peace, in a protected place, where 

 food and water could be had easily, would allow Nature to make her own cure. 



Among the larger birds that came in this way was a Wood Duck, two Great 

 Blue Herons, a Woodcock, Bittern, and Loon. The first Heron was found 

 one bitter cold January day in a half-starved condition, the tip of its bill being 

 injured so badly that it could not obtain food in the normal way. It was 

 placed in a large box-cage in a light, dry cellar, and fed with small fish, but 

 though it swallowed them eagerly, it could not digest them and died after a 

 few days. The Woodcock and Wood Duck had wing troubles, but recovered 

 and went their way. The second Heron, Bittern and Loon each had fractures 

 of one of the wing-bones; a two weeks' rest allowed the knitting of the parts 

 and they flew away, the Loon living in the interval contentedly on the pond. 



Two birds thus harbored gave us in return for the hospitality some intimate 

 glimpses of themselves that might be called examples of bird friendship, 

 without elaborating facts, and during the weeks that they were with us, wrote 

 their own biographies in the records we are keeping — "The Stories of Birdcraft 

 Sanctuary." The first of these was a scrap of a Hummingbird, brought to 

 Birdcraft early in July, staying with us twenty-two days. 



At the first glance it seemed more like a black bug than a bird, as it lay in 

 the warden's palm, motionless, with no expression in its beady eyes. It had 

 been picked up on the porch of the finder, who had brought it half a dozen 

 miles in the hope that some means could be devised of rearing it. 



No anxious parent was in sight, there was no visible nest from which it 

 could have fallen, or any other clue, and it seemed almost impossible that so 

 frail a thing could have been dropped on the hard boards, in any way, and 

 still be alive. 



(iQ3) 



