Taken care of

This morning my heart crumbled when I got an e-mail from Detta (who is abroad) explaining what to feed Sapodilla Dawn and who to call to get specially reared meal worms for baby birds. (This was in response to an e-mail I'd sent her with the Sapo-D. story). Suddenly yesterday's answers were no longer satisfying and the nagging "I should have kept her" voice resurfaced.

As much as I dreaded going for a walk and passing by the tree where I had left her, I decided to do it.

On my way, I noticed a startling amount of keskidees. They were everywhere: looking down from the wires above me, walking bravely across my path, sitting in trees calling out. Were there really more or was I just noticing them more because of the Sapo-D association?

As I approached the tree, my eyes flew to the spot where I'd placed Sapo-D. It was empty. I looked around. No sign of l'oisillon (fledgling in French). No sign of what I had been dreading (a small, half-eaten carcass swarming with ants). I looked up to the nest and saw a Keskidee sitting directly above me. The mother? She stayed a long while and, despite my presence and proximity, did not fly away.

Perhaps the gardener had put Sapo-D back into the nest as promised. And, if not, maybe someone had passed by, seen her and picked her up. "A UWI zoology student," I thought ... who knew, more than I would have, exactly what to feed her.

Little bird, big teacher. The whole experience made me think about the art of 'letting go'. Sometimes we are afraid to let go of what we 'know' because we don't know what is in the 'emptiness' beyond it. Sometimes we may not be sure that we are doing the right thing by releasing that to which we are 'attached'. I think Sapo-D came along to show that it's okay to let go and trust. When we do, everything is taken care of.

Guilty questions and satisfying answers

Why did I take Sapodilla Dawn back to that spot on campus where I'd found her? Why didn't I keep her and look up 'what to feed a baby bird' on the internet?

Guilty questions of this nature plagued me as I drove back home from POS today, somehow noticing more Keskidees than usual along my route.

So ... I just looked up 'what to feed a baby bird' (for future reference) and came across the below extract. It makes me feel better about the decision I made in the end.

If the bird is uninjured you should ask yourself, "Is it really an orphan?" Nine times out of ten the answer is no! Look for nests in nearby trees and shrubs. They are usually well hidden and hard to get to. If you can find the nest, simply put the bird back in it. It's a myth that the parents will not care for young birds that have been touched by humans. In fact, birds have a poor sense of smell. Great horned owls kill and eat skunks without even noticing their overpowering stench.

If you can't find the nest, put the baby bird in a shrub or tree - somewhere up off the ground. You can even provide a substitute nest by tying a berry basket (with drainage) up in a tree. Most often this is all the help a baby bird needs. As soon as you leave, the parents, who were probably watching you the whole time, will return and continue to feed the fledgling. If you want to be sure the parents are still around, observe the baby bird from a distance, preferably with binoculars. If the parents don't return to an undisturbed nestling in two hours, something may be wrong. The parents may have been killed by predators or hit by a car. Don't worry if you only see one parent. A single parent can raise the young alone.

This site (where the above extract is from) has info on what and how to feed baby birds.

Also check this site. Both sites deal with foreign birds (robins, etc) ... but the info will work just as well for tropical birds.

Sapodilla Dawn

Sapodilla Dawn
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This morning while walking with a friend, Mitra, on campus, we came upon a baby keskidee on the grass, near a tree. It had fallen from its nest. Nearby, a man was cutting grass with a noisy weed-wacker. No doubt terrifying for a bewildered baby animal. Had it not been for that, I may have left it for the parents to find her and feed her ... but instead, I scooped her up and we turned to walk back home. We named her Dawn, since she had been found at daybreak.

When I got to my street, I saw a bird eating one of my neighbour's sapodillas ... which was interesting because on arrival at Mitra's house, the first thing she had pointed out to me was her laden sapodilla tree. I decided to add Sapodilla to the bird's name.

Sapodilla Dawn was covered in mites and kept opening her beak for me to feed her. I called Detta (whom I normally call for advice when I find baby animals), but did not get through. I had had good intentions of rearing Sapo-D until she could fly (as with Rainbow the pigeon), but I didn't think Rainbow's heavy diet of soggy oats and bird feed would have worked with Sappie. Not wanting to give her the wrong food and kill her, I wrapped her in toilet paper (a temporary nest) and returned to the tree under which I'd found her.

Upon my return, another man was there, clearing away dead leaves with the blower. I stopped him, showed him Sapo-D and said I was leaving her near the nest for the parents. He said that he would keep an eye on her and when he was finished blowing he would get a ladder and put her back in the nest.

I decided to trust him.

I removed Sapo-D from the toilet paper, placed her in a safe spot near the tree and walked away.

Animal cruelty in the name of 'art' and 'fun'

I never know if these things are really true ... but knowing what horrors human beings are capable of, I wouldn't be surprised if this disgusting art display is real. The pictures don't look Photoshopped or staged.

I learned about it this morning from an e-mail a friend sent me:

Please sign the petition to boycott the artist. His name is Guillermo Habacuc Vargas. He took a starving dog off the street and tied it up in a gallery as his exhibit. He felt that the dog would have eventually died on the streets so it was okay to let it continue starving. If you can spare a moment please sign this petition to boycott this "artist" representing his country in the Biennal Central America Honduras 2008 exhibition.

Why?!!!!!!

Animals are helpless ... and at 'the mercy' of humans, who foolishly consider themselves to be superior, acting as if they own the planet and (one day, they believe - through space exploration) the entire Universe.

The other morning when I was going for my walk around UWI I met a man strolling with his dog. We ended up walking and talking about various things (one topic being animals). He told me about a time he was walking through campus and witnessed a car full of laughing young men deliberately drive over a sleeping stray dog ... obviously for 'fun'. The dog apparently was not killed. It jumped up and ran off ... but no doubt was suffering from internal injuries.

photo source

In movies I close my eyes for scenes involving animals (e.g. horses falling in battle), even though they (are supposed to) have that disclaimer at the end about no animals being hurt during filming. Neither can I view real life animal cruelty (e.g. the seals being clubbed in Canada). Looking at those photos of the seal cubs being clubbed leaves me feeling as helpless as they are. Just disgusting. So that you can have a fur coat?!!! Even visiting the PETA site ... I see the headlines and find it extremely difficult to read further ...

Love

A friend in England sent me an e-mail today. The subject heading of her e-mail was 'Love'.

Her precursor to the link said: "This woman found this lion hurt and about to die. She took him home and took care of him. When the lion was better she called the local zoo. This was the reaction she got when the lion saw her ..." http://www.telestereo.com/Archivos/video.html

Frida finds her feet (update)

Frida feeding on fish on the day she was found. Detta's hand pushing fish closer.
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Update: When Frida was found last Friday, she could not walk. She was using her wings to propel her body along the ground. Now she is having moments when she stands. This, along with her ravenous appetite, shows that she is on the way to recovery.

Frida(y) ... update

Update: Last night Detta called to tell me: "Elspeth, your friend has made it this far." She said she had sent a swab of Frida's stool for analysis. All is well except for the presence of bacteria (can't remember name) which is not found in seabirds. She will have to go on antibiotics. Detta also called a friend of hers in Florida for further advice and was advised to put her on a course of antibiotics not available in TT. So for now the aforementioned antibiotics will have to do the job. God speed, Frida.

Frida eating fish at Detta's (Detta's hand in shot)
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(14 December 2007)

This morning when going for my walk I saw this bird on campus. (She is a smaller version of the sea bird I found in a carpark March this year. Sadly, that one died). This one's wings were spread and she was unable to fly. What was she doing so far inland?! People were walking by as if she was not there. I picked her up, walked back home with her, immediately called Detta then took the bird down to her wildlife orphanage, wrapped in one of my beach wraps.

I named her Friday (since I found her today, Friday) ... minus the 'y'. Hence Frida. She seems a lot healthier than the other sea bird that died (toxicity, dehydration). She rapidly gobbled up the fish that was placed in front of her. When I left she was sitting on a special heating pad in a cage, covered in blue fleece, with her plate of fish in front of her.

Here's to her swift healing and eventual return to the sky/sea.

Everything really does happen for a reason

The original Rainbow when I had her.
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On Friday when I got to my car to go to the yoga retreat, I noticed that the passenger window was shattered. As I closed my driver's door to go back inside, the shattered glass splintered to the ground. Turns out a stone from the gardener's weed-wacker had hit the window and broke it. To cut a long story short, it was highly inconvenient. It kept me back as I knocked out remaining glass and vaccuumed the splinters. I couldn't do anything more about it then (like get a new one) because I would have been late for the retreat. So I covered the window with a large garbage bag stuck down with duct tape ... then tossed the scissors and tape into my car, driving off, figuring I would deal with the window on Monday (which I did, this morning).

Had this not happened, I would have left earlier and gone to an art exhibition at the Museum and driven over the Lady Young to get there. But because my car would have been 'open' and because I was late, I decided to go straight to the retreat via Santa Cruz.

Had I not taken this route I would not have rounded the bend by Royal Bank in Maraval (Boissiere) and seen a net hanging from the roof of a building with a Rainbow trapped in it (I now see all grey pigeons as Rainbows). The poor thing was flapping helplessly in the afternoon sun and everyone stuck in the traffic was no doubt seeing it. I rounded the bend and pulled my car in front of the building. The businesses were all closed except for one that was selling water scooters. I asked them if they had a broom that I could use to free a trapped pigeon.

They looked at me in that dry Trini way, as if I was mad. "No, we don't have a broom."

"There's a pigeon trapped in a net at the back of the building," I said.

"Dat net is dere for dat purpose," the man told me. Apparently it's to prevent the pigeons from going under the awnings of the roof ... but somehow this one must have gotten trapped. "Leave it. When de man come he go deal with it."

Certain that this meant they would kill it or leave it to die, I said: "That is animal cruelty," and proceeded to the back of the building.

The side of the building was sheer, with a tiny ledge, about one inch wide. The steep side dropped to a large canal below. I am afraid of heights, so I could not go onto the ledge. I asked the we-have-no-broom man (w.h.n.b.) if he would climb out and he said no. My only option was to grip on to a wrought iron gate-like thing and lean over the canal, pulling at the net, trying to yank it down. The w.h.n.b. stood behind me, telling me that the wrought iron gate was loose and I could fall down into the canal.

The more I yanked, the more the pigeon got flustered and kept beating up. Her neck was poking through a hole in the net. Her feet and wings were through other holes. She was truly trapped. I stopped yanking, realising the net was securely positioned and that my actions could kill the bird (e.g. she could break her neck or die of fright) rather than set her free.

My attempts to get a broom anywhere were futile. People passing in cars were either calling out or looking at me like I was crazy. Just then, someone I know and have not seen in ages, came walking by. I told him about the pigeon and took him to see it. When he saw the steep drop he grew pale (also afraid of heights) ... but he felt pained to see the trapped bird. He somehow found a broom and leaned across to try and poke it out of the net. This was not working. Cat calls from the passing traffic were growing louder.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man in an orange t-shirt appeared and without a word, nimbly jumped up on to the one inch ledge. He walked out a bit on the tips of his toes and started to pull at the net. He was struggling, hanging with one hand onto the shaky gate. At one point he even let it go, to move precariously closer to the pigeon.

I then remembered the scissors I had in my bag. "Do you want scissors?" I asked him (even though the w.h.n.b. man had told me early on not to cut the net when I said I was going to).

The orange t-shirt man stuck out his hand and I placed the scissors into his palm. After about ten minutes of cutting, I heard a flapping noise and saw the grey and white of the pigeon streaking freely across the canal ... and out of sight.

The feeling I got in my heart cannot be described.

I couldn't wait for the man to get off the ledge. As soon as his feet touched the ground, I grabbed him and hugged him tightly and said: "Thank you!!! Thank you!! Thank you!! You are a hero!!" He couldn't even speak. He seemed overwhelmed by my enthusiasm and gratitude. He stood there beaming and smiling with grey and white feathers all over his face and then just went his way without ever saying a word.

It was a miracle and a huge symbol all at once. I was extremely light and happy. (A feeling which only intensified during the yoga weekend). As I drove off after the Rainbow rescue, I thought: "That's one of the best things that ever happened to me!" At that moment it felt like the best day of my life. It struck me then with surety: everything really does happen for a reason.

Had my car window not been broken by the gardeners, I would not have had the scissors with me.

Do not ignore

Lately I have been ignoring my inner voice. This throws me off balance and can make me feel horrible and confused ... to know that something I felt/sensed was true and I did not pay attention to it.

Today after I woke up and meditated, I said a little prayer that I would increasingly be able to hear the guidance and that I will trust it again. I asked for a sign to let me know.

I was going walking for papers and decided to go for the longer walk around the University, which I have not done in a while. As I walked, a strident thought came out of nowhere: "I will find a puppy now."

As I neared the exact spot where I had found Rainbow earlier this year, a cute brown puppy wearing a blue collar appeared. It gamboled around the legs of a man who was strolling by, but he was ignoring it. I asked him if it was his and he said no. I asked two other people (a guard and a cleaner) nearby and they had no idea who it belonged to or where it had come from. I deduced that it must have been terrified by the recent spate of thunder and had fled from its home, as many dogs do.

The pup was frisking around so close to the cars on the mainroad ... and I didn't want to return from my walk and see it crushed. I told the cleaner I would take the pup home, take some photos of it, make flyers and stick them around ... and hopefully the owner would be see them and contact me.

The cleaner said: "Yes, do dat. Dat ent no pothong, yuh know! Dat is ah good breed!"

I told her that doesn't make a difference. Trinis feel that you should only put effort into saving or owning a dog if it is 'a breed'. Just like how people referred to Rainbow as 'only a street pigeon'. That doesn't make her less than a pigeon sold in pet shops. To make the point: can pigeons in petshops play the thumb piano and sing the way Rainbow did?

Anyway, I left the pup playing with the cleaner and the guard and continued on my walk, intending to pick it up on my way back. Upon my return, the pup was not there.

"Where is it?" I asked the cleaner.

"Me eh know. It was playing an' I turn my back an' it gone."

Another guard standing nearby said: "Dat was your dog?"

I told him it wasn't, but that I was going to take it home so it would be safe, make flyers, try and find the owner, etc.

He said: "Well a man came jes now and take it. It mus' be he own."

I walked off, thinking about how the puppy had 'appeared' and 'disappeared' ... and it suddenly occurred to me that the puppy was a sign. It was as if it had been put there ... not for me to rescue and take home ... but simply to remind me that when my inner voice speaks loudly, I can trust it.

New beginnings: unlimited success

The blog reader called 'dumondoj' left a comment on yesterday's post wondering if it was random that ABBA had received her beginning during Beginnings. Whether it was random or not, she definitely did get her new beginning during Beginnings. In fact I think Beginnings brought about many new beginnings on the whole.

Soon after the ABBA story, my sister Kathryn sent out a heart-wrenching e-mail about her own dogs. She and her son Liu, my nephew, have cause to move and unfortunately had to give up their dogs ... since finding another house with a garden at a price anyone but a millionaire can afford is not easy.

Mandy (one of the pups from Hindi's second litter of which Pippa is a sibling)

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Amazingly, she was overwhelmed with responses. Everyone was forwarding the e-mail far and wide to their various networks. All kinds of people she didn't even know where calling to express interest in the dogs and/or to offer words of comfort and condolence. Someone even offered counseling to assist them as they made their shift in parting with the pets. Within about a week the dogs all had new homes with animal lovers! Mandy went to a young woman who is going to get another dog for her as a companion. This young woman even bought a special cover for Mandy to sit on in the car - "as opposed to just putting an old towel," as Kathryn pointed out.

Spike, who wandered into Kathryn and Liu's garden one day and never left.

Fidel (otherwise known as Feedie): a strange mix of Rottweiler and a small pompek-ish breed. How that mating session was possible is anyone's guess.
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Spike and Fidel, the two males, will be moving together, to live with a family in South. These people are animal lovers and apparently recently adopted a stray dog. People who adopt stray dogs and love them go up in my books. They don't care whether the dog is 'a breed'. They love him/her for who s/he is.

In a world ... or more specifically, on an island where it's tough to get homes for animals (especially cats), we've definitely been seeing some success stories as of late!

At last ... a success story!!!

Hoorayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!
Surrounded by a small circle of people, adorable ABBA, formerly known as 'Dancing Queen' is the centre of attention in the cordoned off area of Glen's workshop where she spent the night after being found on Tuesday. (N.B. Her belly has gone down considerably. When I found her it was like a balloon).

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Debbie and Sita Sammy (Glen's administrative assistants) are adopting ABBA! I was elated to hear this when I went to visit her the morning after. Apparently the members of the Sammy family really spoil their dogs ... so we can be assured that ABBA is going to a great home. The excited family even left a comment here about their new adoptee.

Indeed ... a time to dance and celebrate!

Animal lovers needed to help solve recurring problem

Unfortunately I don't have a photo of ABBA because I didn't take my camera to the funeral ...

On the way to the cemetery, I spotted a cute toffee brown and white pup under a bridge, busily digging in a box. I slowed down and pointed it out to my friend Michele (also an animal lover) who was following in her car. Someone had dumped the pup in the box. Because she was so friendly, she was dangerously running towards oncoming cars wagging her tail. We decided to return after the burial to get her.

When we returned, she was still there near to her box, which was filled with Crix, a small bowl of water and a dirty t-shirt. We emptied the box of its items and put her (in the box) onto the passenger seat of my car.

As I drove up the highway with her, she gazed lovingly up at me: gentle doe-like eyes, slender face, wet black nose, huge sticking-up ears which she will have to grow into, a very round belly (due to worms and most likely lots of Crix), a long tail (with a curled white tip at the end) which wagged and thumped against the box for 90% of the distance. She was having her own drum festival. Now and then she would emit a funny little howl and dance around in her box.

During the funeral someone was going to sing "My Heart Will Go On", using a CD backing track. The person operating the CD pressed the wrong song and "Dancing Queen" by ABBA started playing instead, giving the congregation a good laugh. In honour of this moment, we named the pup "Dancing Queen". This has since been shortened to ABBA.

Since I could not keep her (3 dogs already) and neither could Michele (also 3 dogs), I took her to the home of a friend, Glen, who said he would keep her until I can take her to TTSPCA on Thursday. I would rather not take her there ... but what else can be done? Will have to seek options.

This is a severe problem. People in Trinidad & Tobago are generally not animal lovers and many don't like pot hounds or feel "they are used to the streets!" Most people want "a breed". What is to be done about the recurring problem of stray animals who are being dumped, mistreated, misunderstood, scorned, etc? I'm being serious. This needs to be rectified. What can we do? It is disheartening to pick up stray animals, knowing that finding homes for them is near to being a gargantuan task.

Bird

Early this morning I was walking down the road to get papers. On the way I came upon the religious woman who normally stands in a particular spot with her Bible and crucifix, waiting for a private taxi to take her to the church at the Mount.

As I approached her and said "Good morning", my eye fell on a little bird in the drain before her. I bent down and looked at it to assess potential injuries before picking it up. I couldn't see anything amiss. Maybe its legs were damaged.

The religious woman (R.W.) said: "Oh gosh, you know I standing here so long and I ent even see dat bird dere?"

I moved my hand slowly toward the bird, asking it if it was okay. It was a small 'Big Eye Grief' and it was not moving. In fact it was frozen, its eyes wide, mouth slightly open, little body breathing heavily.

R.W.: Someting wrong.

Waiting until some cars had passed (in case the bird tried to scramble away from me and ended up under a tyre), I enclosed it in my hand, picked it up and asked it if it was hurt.

R.W.: Someting definitely wrong. A bird just doh let you pick it up so!

I agreed. The bird struggled a bit and then, to our amazement, flew out of my hands and onto the gate, where it perched.

R.W.: See if someting wrong with de right leg.

I moved closer to see. It looked normal. Nothing appeared to be physically wrong, yet the bird sat there, motionless, breathing hard. Maybe it was in shock. I approached it and touched it gently. It allowed me to. I wanted to at least move it to a place where it was further away from the road, so I lightly enclosed my hand around it and kept it there for a while. The bird also allowed me to do this, all the while looking at me from the side of its eye.

R.W.: But what is dis?! Nutting wrong wit dat bird! How it letting you hold it so?!

I then said to the bird: "Don't be afraid" and removed my hand.

It suddenly lifted its wings and strongly flew, disappearing into a tree some distance away.

R.W.: Buh eh-eh!

When can I move in?

Purrson poses for the pussy papparazzi.
(Photo from AWN)
Call Vinmer Vet Clinic @ 622-2773 if interested in adoption.

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The kitten in the above photo is called "Purrson" (apparently because he loves to purr). A friend (who recently joined AWN and is encouraging others to do the same) sent me the image so that I would forward it. I decided to put it on the blog. It is a known fact that most Trinis do not like cats. In fact, many people hate and fear them. When I've asked why, most tell a similar tale: "My grandmother told me that cats jump on your neck in the night and suck out your breath." Do they all have the same grandmother?

I have a friend who absolutely despised cats. I had not heard from her in a long time ... until one night she called me for advice. In a very concerned-bordering-on-worried tone she asked if I knew of anyone who could take care of 'Darling' ... (or was it 'Sweetheart'?) ... while she and her family were away.

Darling/Sweetheart turned out to be a cat who had wandered into their house and successfully managed to steal their hearts. Darling/Sweetheart now runs the household and has my friend, her husband and the children scampering to fulfill her every meow. She even has her own room. Just goes to show it is not impossible for the worst of cat haters to be converted when the right feline comes along.

If you know of anyone who will give Purrson a good home, please pass this information on to them. You yourself may even be interested (if you live in TT). He is about ten weeks old and is currently housed at Vinmer Vet Clinic, Pole Carew Street, Woodbrook. Call the Clinic at 622-2773 for more information, to visit and hopefully to adopt.

More busks for tusks

Photo taken by Nancy at our busking location on Wednesday

(Canada Chronicles continued ...)

Yesterday (a few hours ago) we busked in the same spot on the corner of Yonge and whatever-street-that-is with the "World's Biggest Bookstore". This time we were joined by Mike and Rob from the drum class.

Warming up

Before we began Nancy laid out the elephant booklets we'd been given at Wednesday night's benefit concert and I wrote up the necessary on the sidewalk with chalk. Nancy's roommate had given her a medium-sized wooden elephant (with one tusk symbolically missing) for display purposes. It stood by the large plastic cup we had (instead of a hat this time) for donations.

We started drumming at about 9:30 p.m. and, within 20 minutes, we had made $14 and attracted a small audience of people who also drummed and wanted to join in. They never got to, though. The night's festivities were cut short by a woman came up to us and told us to stop playing because there are condominiums nearby and we were disturbing residents.

Saving Asian Elephants one drum at a time (edited with more info on benefit concert)

(Canada Chronicles continued ...)


Last night when I met up with two friends to go here, one of them, Nancy told me about a jazz concert a friend of hers has organised (for tonight) to raise funds on behalf of the Asian Elephants. We are going to the concert ... but we've decided that prior to that we will have a little concert of our own.

Weeks ago when we all first met, we had planned to go drum-busking in front of The Big Carrot. But last night we decided we would drum-busk this evening, before we attend the benefit concert for the Elephants (Information here). Instead of doing it in front of the Carrot, we'll drum in the Dundas Square area, where there is a lot more pedestrian traffic. It may end up being just two of us, but we've decided that whatever money we make (hopefully more than $1.91), will go toward the Asian Elephant fund.

(Nelly the Elephant will be proud).

Very interesting that drumming encourages 'community'. I just looked up elephant as a power animal and it means something similar: community, love, commitment, etc. (Read the link if you have the time/are interested).

The drum-busking will take place in the Dundas Square area starting at 6:00 p.m. Admission: free. Donations for the Elephants encouraged.

The jazz concert will take place at 720 Bathurst Street, South of Bloor, West side, downstairs. Admission: $20. (50% of proceeds go to the fund for the Elephants).

To find out more and donate online to the Asian Elephant fund, visit The Elephants' Umbrella Fund.

A Sad Tern of Events (update)

After today's session of the I SPY TREES (the latest episode in the environmental video project I'm doing with children), I went over to Detta's house to check up on the tern I found the other day. I was dropping one of the little girls home, so she came with me to meet the tern.

Detta had told me that the bird was fighting to keep alive and that she felt it was battling poison. Initial tests had been done to find out what the problem might be: Avian Ifluenza tests were negative; X-rays showed no injuries.

When I saw the tern, she was lying on a heating pad in a cage, her beautiful long wings spread out at her sides. She was listless and looked smaller than when I had picked her up. She had been eating sardines before today, but as of today, was not taking anything in. I held her in my hands and noted that she was lighter, barely able to hold her neck up. Her body felt like it was almost empty of a spirit and the expression in her eyes indicated valiant efforts to remain alive. As she lay in my hand, a greenish liquid started to leak steadily from her beak (vomit).

We placed her back on the heating pad where she beat up for a while, propelling herself to the side of the cage, where her long beak could have gotten stuck in one of the holes (danger of neck breakage). Detta repositioned her to avoid this and, as she did so, the bird arched her neck forward, as if in in one last effort, and died ... within minutes of us arriving to check up on her.

Detta will send the little body for a necropsy. She said that this bird had held on long, compared to other sea birds that have been brought in to her ... all of which had similar symptoms (emaciation due to dehydration leading to death) and all of which turned out to have chronic liver damage (due to toxins). These toxins are undoubtedly industrial!

To those who are carelessly pumping industrial waste into our waters: Is this what you call 'development'? Is this what you favour so that your pockets can be fat with money?

A Tern on my Path

Yesterday I set out for my usual early morning walk. No sooner than 2 minutes into my walk, my eyes (which seem to be tuned in to seeing injured birds) landed on a strange looking bird lying in the carpark of a nearby school. It was a white and black bird with long wings spread out at its sides., looking like a Carnival Queen waiting to go on stage. It appeared to be a seagull, which is strange for an inland suburban/residential area. I approached, expecting it to fly away, but it didn't (couldn't). I noted that she was indeed a sea or water bird of some kind, with webbed feet.

As I approached gently, speaking to her, she tried moving away, rapidly and clumsily, snapping her long, needle-like beak at me. Eventually I caught her, held her wings against her body to keep her still and took her home. Her heart was beating loudly, terrified ... probably having never been held by a human! I gave her some Reiki and she calmed down and closed her eyes, nestled in one of my old t-shirts.

I called Detta and described the bird to her. She sounded extremely concerned, telling me that this was rare but not unheard of - for a sea bird to be found incapacitated in a populated inland area. She explained that this was most likely due to poisoning (e.g. from industrial waste going into the sea) which affects many marine birds (and other creatures, of course). How it got so far inland we don't know!

At Detta's instructions I took the bird to the Mout Hope Vet Hospital where she was tested for Avian Influenza (negative result) and then collected by Detta later in the day. Turns out that she is a Tern. At the latest report, she is doing well and is energised, but still incapable of flight. I will know as soon as Detta discovers what is wrong with her. Haven't named her yet. Any suggestions?

Anyway ... most likely she was poisoned. This is abominable! From my discussion with Detta ... the amount of animals being poisoned by industrial waste! We see the effects of the poisons in smaller animals first, but we are being poisoned too. And they want to build smelters on top of it all?!