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So much has happened in the lives of the Mostards in the past 24 hours that you might need to have a cup of tea (or coffee) handy for this long read.
My chronical starts yesterday afternoon while looking out my window at the birds splashing about in the bird-bath and I see a small Cape Sparrow in the tree above. I then realized that one of Mr and Mrs Mostard’s chicks had just fledged, which took me by surprise as I had assumed that their chicks were less than one week old, and it takes around 14 to 17 days after hatching for a Cape Sparrow to fledge.
I continued to watch as Mr and Mrs Mostard flew back-and-forth, feeding the little one. I then came to the conclusion that there must only be one chick as the Mostards did not return to their nest nor could I see any other fledgling; the parents were concentrating all their feeding efforts on just this one.
We have two thorn trees growing side-by-side at the front of our property and, as the afternoon progressed, the fledgling awkwardly moved about in and between these two trees. When the sun started to set, Mr and Mrs Mostard hastily flew to-and-fro between the tree with their nest in it and the two trees at the front, trying to convince their little one to return to the shelter of the nest, but the fledgling would not go back. Eventually the parents gave up and flew off, leaving the little one in a part of a tree that I have known a cat to get to; at the end of one of the main branches which has less thorns and is thick enough for a cat to walk on.
[As I am typing this, something has occurred, but I need to continue this story before I can go into what it is.]
So, I made a (perhaps marginally immoral?) decision to do some minor intervention by driving the fledgling into higher branches that are thinner in diameter and denser with thorns. It only took my close proximity to the tree to do this and was over very quickly. I checked on the fledgling twice during the night and listened for any possible dog barking at one of the eight cats that live directly neighbouring our house and may be lurking. I was also concerned with how the fledgling would handle the temperature dropping in the very early morning, being away from shelter and out exposed on its own. The temperature eased to 8 degrees Celsius (about 46 degrees Fahrenheit).
At six o’clock in the morning, at first light, the fledgling was still in the same spot in the tree, and between that time and sunrise, which was at half-past six, the parents showed up. The little one was slow to move and seemed stiff, but had survived the night with all its terrors. I put food out in the bird feeder and the parents happily tucked into breakfast. I could relax knowing that all was well… then a hawk swooped in and gone was the fledgling. I. kid. you. not.
I have very mixed feelings about this event. Living in the suburbs, it is very rare to witness such an occurrence. I am excited to have seen a hawk… in my own yard… so close. And unlike when a domesticated cat kills a bird for sport, this is absolute nature at work… at its essence. On the other hand, I listened for two hours to the Sparrow parents continuously calling out for their missing only little one. I twice looked all around my garden and at the base of all our thorn trees in hopes that I may find the fledgling, but to no avail. After watching all their work to build their nest, and my not mowing my lawn for weeks so as not to disturb them… I feel invested… and it saddens me to think that in a flash of raptor wings it was taken away… or was it?
Now let me get back to that occurrence which I mentioned happened while typing out the end of the fourth paragraph. Mr and Mrs Mostard made a big ruckus, the kind they make when something excites them, like for example when they are being territorial and chasing off intruders. I stopped typing and took a look outside… and there is a fledgling... back in the tree. I. kid. you. not.
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Mr Mostart taken from almost directly below.
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