The littlest bird has gone from 10 grams down to 8. It’s scary. I’m not sure he’s going to make it.
It took me an hour and 45 minutes to feed them all their first breakfast today, and about 45 minutes of that time was spent on him: 40 minutes trying to coax him to open his beak, and then five minutes squirting the food in once he finally opened it. I can’t tell you how good it felt to see his little crop fill up.
I know it’s all about survival of the fittest, but that’s a difficult concept for those of us who always root for the underdog. I have trouble with wildlife documentaries, too, even though I love them. I feel so sorry for all the animals – the terrified prey, the hungry predators. Everybody seems like an underdog to me.
I need you to root for me!
I was taken in by Papa Pan’s mother – a ruthless conniving con artist of a cat lady. She begged us to take another stray living in her garage. We really wanted to wait until spring, it could easily be a barn cat. Well she called every day asking us to take the poor little thing now it’s so cold out yammer yammer yammer “I’m in my 80’s what kind of heartless children are you!?” We caved. She had us collect it after dark. All Papa Pan saw were it’s big yellow eyes.
It is a VERY pregnant cat. There will be kittens here within a week I’d estimate! She’s a lovely cat, purrs like a motorboat, and seems to love everyone even the dogs. Th
I’m rooting for your little bird!!!!
Ha! She seems to be very good at picking cats for you. It sounds like you’re already falling in love with this one too. 😉
I hand-fed a zebra finch once. Not so young to tube feed, instead I made a slightly watery food mix and put a drop on the side of her beak. A finch beak, right, with the seam very handily even. I’d sit for hours letting that food wick into her mouth. Sometimes she’d sleep, sometimes she’d swallow. She made it.
Good luck.