Snatched from the jaws of death

I was very worried about Sweet Baby Jeebus, the littlest lovebird, who hatched on Christmas Day. Last Tuesday he weighed just eight tiny grams, compared to his siblings who were all at least triple that. One even weighed five times as much!

And skinny doesn’t even begin to describe Jeebus. You hear about people being just skin and bones, and he seemed even less substantial than that. He seemed embryonic. If you held him up to the light, you could see right through him. His skin and bones were so thin and fragile. His blood vessels were mere threads. His whole body throbbed along with his heart. And even though he was quite literally starving, he wouldn’t eat. I was scared for him. He was in imminent danger of dying.

I’m happy to report that he now weighs 18 grams! His siblings are all in the 40-50 gram range, so he’s still tiny in comparison, but he’s coming along very nicely. He eats enthusiastically, his eyes are starting to open, and he responds to my voice and touch. He’s getting a little down on his wee pink body, which is great because he was so tiny he would get cold very easily. I have to hold him in my hand while feeding him to keep his body temperature from plummeting. (In the nest, all the babies sleep in a big pile in order to share heat, plus I have a heating pad under their box, so he was warm enough in there. But I worry that he might get crushed or injured.)

Here’s a picture of him, taken the day before yesterday with his siblings.

And here’s a picture of him eating, taken last night. The trick is to get more into him than onto him.

I wish I’d gotten some pictures of him at eight grams, but I was more preoccupied with getting him fed and keeping him warm.

One night, when his outlook seemed particularly dismal, I said, in desperation, “God, if you make this baby bird open his mouth and start eating, I’ll make an effort to believe in you.” I figured if there was a God, he might see this as an opportunity to accomplish two things at once – save the bird, and convert me. Besides, this baby bird was born on Christmas Day, which should give him a little extra grace, right?

But nothing happened. The baby bird kept his mouth firmly closed. I tucked him into bed empty, and expected him to die within hours.

But the next morning he was still alive. He gobbled his breakfast, and he’s been eating ever since.

Which reminds me of a joke:

A man wakes up late for a new job interview. Quickly, he takes a shower, eats breakfast, and gets into his car. When he finally gets there, he can’t find a parking place. He looks and he looks, but he just doesn’t find one. Finally, he prays, saying, “God, if you find me a parking spot, I will go to synagogue every Friday night, every Saturday morning, and every yom tov.” A minute later, a vacant parking place suddenly materializes in front of him. “Never mind, God,” he says, “I found one!”