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So I completely forgot to mention yesterday my daring rescue of a baby bird!

My cat, Casmir, decided that the little fledgling would taste good, so he carried the baby bird over to out back step, and delicately dropped her down. Since she was no longer moving, Cas wasn't interested, so he moved on to more interesting prey.

Now, my dad and I assumed the bird was dying and figured we would leave the bird there. But I was worried about her, so my dad grabbed a fireplace shovel and gently picked the bird up. Once on the shovel, the fledgling was a lot more alert and seemed to be doing fine, so my dad advised me to put the little bird in a box in my room, and call Animal Control for advice. Well, I strongly dislike the officers at our local Animal Control, so I called the Wild Bird Center somewhere out in the middle U.S. and after describing the bird, the said that she was probably fine, and to just release her in the morning. And I did. And right now, I can look out my window and see her sitting in her nest in the tree outside. It is a good feeling.

So there is my cunning rescue. It was neat because she sat in my lap (and peed on my lap) and thought that my hand was the perfect perch. And how often do birds just sit in our hands? Nifty, huh?