Anyway, God must be working on me in this. My immediate reaction was:
"Put it back where you found it."
"Birds have diseases."
What I was really thinking was:
"Maybe we should just let the bird die. Isn't that the whole Circle-of-Life, Survival-of-the-fittest thing?"
We put it back in the yard for a while, but I was really conflicted about it. I didn't feel right about just letting a defenseless bird die in the yard. Melissa did some research on the interwebs about how to care for a nestling. Since we couldn't find its nest, we did the next best thing: We got a shoebox and made a nest for it.
Melissa also contacted a local wildlife rehab volunteer who did not volunteer to take care of this bird. She gave us some instructions to care for the bird and suggested that it might be a bluejay, cowbird, or a mockingbird. We decided that it was a mocking bird and so the kids are super excited that we are nursing the Texas State Bird to health.
I don't know what the future holds for this bird, but we are going to take care of it as long as we can. I don't want to over-spiritualize the thing, but I'm struck once again by how dependent that bird is on the [hand] that feeds it. Kind of like us, I guess.
I admit that I get a bit excited to feed it when it looks up and opens its mouth. It's quite satisfying. After we feed him, he starts chirping. Vivian says he's worshiping. Maybe he is.
What should we name the bird?