Baldwin brought me a baby bird in his cupped hands, "can you raise him?" "I think he's a jay," and indeed, though mostly naked, there were some dark blue feathers and he/she was not as small as some baby birds. Oh, yes, I said because Baldwin asked. Found a box and shredded newspaper to make a nest. Thought to dig some worms for food. Baby bird was urgent in his shrill cry; i picked up a small worm with some tweezers and managed to set it in the wide open bill. But the worm was not small enough, wiggling out of the beak. So I cut the worm; it writhed. I thought of my earthworms which I feed for castings. I thought of the hierarchy of life. Who says worms don't feel pain?? The bird swallowed the tiny pieces. Half an hour latter I was digging more worms. Chopping up worms was not going well; they seem to have a defense mechanism of putting out slime. It was harder to pick up the still moving pieces in the tweezers. I thought of sleep. I thought of no sleep if bird was going to survive the night. John suggested the cats. Instead I stuffed as much as i could into the little one and went to sleep by 11pm. In the morning, though very quiet, little one did eat a piece of worm before locking up his bill and sinking into sleep. er - death.
You forgot to tell how John told you that you should chew up the worms like a mamma bird would have...and how you believed him until Baldwin mentioned that John was pulling your leg!
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