A couple of years ago, I was bringing my class back from morning fitness on the oval when I felt something hit me in the head. I turned around and saw a little bedraggled looking bird walking along behind the class. I told the kids he would probably find his own way back home and we went back to class. As the day went on I had kids from the two classes next door and mine giving me reports on what that little bird was doing. I’m sure it was a conspiracy!
By two o’clock in the afternoon I was smitten with this tough little survivor who was so exhausted that he couldn’t fly and he was securely tucked away in a photocopy paper box with some water in the art store room. (After hearing the kid’s “horror stories” about ravens pecking him to death and eating him alive, what else could I do??? 12 year olds are GOOD at those kinds of stories!) I had decided to take him to the RSPCA or somewhere similar……This worked in theory until I had a peek at him. He looked so pathetic and woeful my heart went out to him. I took him home instead. On the way home I stopped at the local pet supply shop and found the perfect house for him….which would not fit in my car.
A quick phone call to The Missus which started as….”I have a problem…..” and ended up with her getting the bird house delivered….it wouldn’t fit in her car, either. We had a new pet….even though Lestat thought it was a snack for him.
We had no idea at first whether he was male or female. I had read that female weiro’s had striped tails. I didn’t know that juvenile males had them also. We just read as much as we could about looking after them, plus used common sense.