Baby
My cockatiel “Baby” and I were sitting on our deck having tea yesterday morning around 8:30am. I in my lounge chair, Baby on the railing snacking sunflower seeds with the visiting Chickadees and Nuthatches. I was enjoying nature’s twitters and squeaks of the morning until Baby let out a desparate scream. I looked up in time to see a Red-tailed Hawk snatch her and carry her into the trees. I leapt up out of my chair like it’s suddenly electrtified and ran screeching into the house. I’m not sure where I thought I was going or doing, all I knew was I couldn’t watch or listen to Baby being eaten alive. I couldn’t stop screaming and running around in circles. Hannah by then was screaming too, as I managed to convey what had happened with shrieks and gestures. We ran back outside and in between my screams I heard a very distant peeping deep in the woods. All the other wildlife had vacated (most likely due to my screaming) and the woods were dead silent, so I knew it was her. And I could tell that she was not being eaten alive as the tone was more like a beacon or a distress signal. Rythmic and regular. Shoeless and afraid of what state we would find her in, we take off in the general direction of the distress calls through prickers and overgrown brush, and a football field later find her sitting on the ground. She is visibly intact and we spend the rest of the day snuggling and sleeping. She made half hearted atempts at eating and drinking, twice she bobbed her head along to a car commercial jingle on TV with me, but I’m sure it was just to please me. I’m happy to report that today she is eating and drinking and singing, seemingly back to her old self, save one broken toe and a small puncture wound on the bridge of her nose. How a hand raised, six inch high, flightless prima donna escaped a wild bird of prey is a story only Baby can tell. And she’s not talking.
Jennifer Koeller
First of all, this whole story is laugh out loud funny. And, though I’ve seen Baby on your shoulder, I had no idea you two were like … related. I’m thinking that raptor took pity on you, or your screams made it think your next move was to take flight after it, because I’ve seen those airborne destroyers strike their targets and they are vicious.
Comment by michael — September 24, 2007 @ 7:58 pm
Poor Baby. Glad the story had a happy ending. I believe your screaming saved the bird’s life. She can wear her puncture wound with pride!
Comment by Chris — September 24, 2007 @ 9:56 pm
Makes me cringe, my pulse race just to think about it … Yeesh. I’m thinking that from your response the hawk knew its days were numbered if it carried through, chickened out. That, and what’s that thing that looks like a rear-quarters claw on Baby … ? A secret weapon?
Comment by adam — September 24, 2007 @ 10:16 pm
I thought it was an electrifying story (not funny at all). Surprisingly, a raptor’s hunting success rate is not all that high. Some say that a falcon may succeed in killing its prey as little as 1 time in 10! I’ll bet Baby fought that hawk like a terrorized captive (which it was).
Comment by rakkity — September 24, 2007 @ 10:52 pm
rakkity, when you come up and we have our long-awaited blog party (FierceBaby has to be in town too), you’ll be able to connect the woman to the circling screamer, and then you might think it funny.
But what I find really odd is being able to take your pet bird out to snack with the chickadees and nuthatches and then have it come back inside with you. Is there no flight instinct left at all? A parakeet is gone, right?
I saw a hawk explode on a pigeon in our backyard and there was nothing left but feathers and a dangling-from-talons bloody carcass. I also saw a hawk smother a young crow, but this one he didn’t fly away with as he was attacked by five or six full sized crows. The pigeon, incidentally, was snacking with his buddies, but they hardly noticed his departure.
Comment by michael — September 25, 2007 @ 7:41 am
Speaking of FB, methinks a certain cockatiel is staking a bit of an alternate claim to that nome de plume (or is that plumage … ?) …
Comment by el Kib — September 25, 2007 @ 8:49 am
Wow. You know, Michael, I can put the name with the person, but I also thought it was electrifying not funny. Lew too. So there. (Did you maybe know ahead of time there was a happy ending?) El kib’s comment, though, definitely a prize-worthy groaner.
Comment by Jennifer — September 25, 2007 @ 7:35 pm
Everyone is correct. It was not funny at the time, but is hilarious now, because she is safe. Thanks for all the comments. All much appreciated and enjoyed. She is asking to go back outside and I can’t seem to let her. She loves to be with her bird friends, but I am too afraid she’ll be scooped again. This hawk didn’t mind that I was 2 feet away. I guess he was pretty hungry. Another thought is that she is just so unpalatable that he had to let her go. Knowing her unsavory personality, I tend to agree.
Comment by Jen — September 25, 2007 @ 8:45 pm
Oh, and Adam, that is a broken tail feather in the picture. Literally and figuratively, she had her feathers ruffled. (Insert Ed McMahan’s Heeyyy-OOOOO here.)
Comment by Jen — September 26, 2007 @ 1:10 pm
Wow!! My mom has warned me about taking my cockatiels outside–because of the hawks–and I laughed her off. I won’t be laughing anymore.
I am SOOOOOO glad to hear that precious Baby is alive and well, and cute as ever!
Comment by Stacie — October 3, 2007 @ 12:42 pm
How does your mom know about hawks and cockatiels? Will they eat any smaller bird? What amazes me is how close Jen was sitting … talk about no respect.
Comment by michael — October 3, 2007 @ 5:30 pm