The Story pg.3

A Room of His Own

We never knew if our foundling, WB, was a he or a she. But, because we connected his arriving with our son's leaving for Air Force boot camp, we always called it Wille or He. And he was given a room of his own. From the very beginning it was our hope that WB would grow, learn to eat and drink, fly, and some day be released to return to the sky with all of the other swallows that travel to and from this part of South Texas. Just as we had encouraged our own two children as they grew to be independent and self-sufficient, we knew it would be best for WB. So, we designated a room in our house for WB. His nest consisted of old cotton rags arranged in a small laundry basket. The basket was then set by an open window near other mud swallow nests. We were hoping this would encourage his vocalizing so that he would sound like the other swallows. We also left a radio playing softly nearby.....no not classical music to encourage the growth of his tiny brain.... probably our local country-western station to keep him company when we weren't home. Every time we would walk into that room he would throw back his head and strain his tiny beak open as wide as possible, bobbing up and down, in hopes a small morsel of wet cat food would land in it. During the first few days we avoided going into WB's room too often, even though we wanted to sit by his basket and just watch what he was doing. We felt like too much handling wouldn't be good for him. His first days were mostly sleeping and eating and bobbing with blind eyes, still covered with transparent eyelids. He grew quickly, his body thickened and lengthened. And the first evidence of feathers appeared. Have you ever watched feathers grow on a bird? We hadn't and we were amazed at what we saw.

The Story pg.2

A Foundling

WB was a foundling. The most amazing part of that statement was how that happened. The story Pops tells is that he was in the backyard. Mayday came from the frontyard and sat down at his feet. He didn't think much of it until Mayday started to whimper. When he didn't notice her, she continued to whine. He finally looked down at her and she had something she had layed on the ground she obviously wanted Pops to see. When Pops reached down to pick it up he realized it was a baby bird. Later he would discover the remains of a mud nest and two other babies on the ground. Sometimes when it is very dry the mud nests will not stay attached to the wall of the house and with a breeze will fall to the ground, shattering the nest and any contents. But this time, there was a survivor, WB. Think about that- a 5 month old mix breed mutt discovers a wiggling baby bird, retrieves it, and delivers it to Pops with an expression of "look here" and as Pops would later say, her eyes asked "what are you going to do about this?"

And what were we going to do about this? A baby bird to raise? Baby bird described is: no more than a day old, eyes still closed, absolutely no feathers, not even pin feathers, purplish pink wrinkled skin that is wiggling and opening its yellow edged mouth. After talking about it for a few minutes we decided we would give it a try. Fortunately cousins Walt and Martha had experience in raising baby birds they had shared with us so we had an idea of where to start. First was to be sure the baby was warm. Next to get it to eat.

Not being ornithologists and with absolutely no visible clues on WB as to what kind of bird we had, we just had to guess about food. W and M had explained how they would take dried cat food and soak it in water to feed their young birds, so that was what we decided to do. But how do you convince a one day old bird to open its mouth to take the food. Holding it near, tapping it on the beak didn't work. Pops solution was to scoop a little food on an orange stick (you ladies know what that is) and pry the baby's beak open. It took only two or three times before WB knew exactly what the tap on his beak and our voices was all about. Within a day all that was needed was for one of us to say something and that little beak flew open, anticipating another morsel. Feeding for the first week was around the clock. We fed every 2-3 hours and WB thrived.

Finally The Story

I've decided I am going to use this venue to finally write a story that I have promised myself for 10 years.... literally, 10 years. It will be written as I find/make the time to get the thoughts in my head arranged so that I am satisfied with what I am doing. My story is about a time when God gave Pops and me an opportunity that on the surface seemed to be all about another creature, but was, by far, more about us.

This is our story of Free Willie......yes, I know a movie has already been made (and maybe a book written) with this same title. But, in reality, that is what we called this experience. In this written account, I think I will refer to this Willie as WB. That would be for Willie Bird or it could be WS- Willie Swallow or WCS- Willie Cliff Swallow. Yes, that's right, the creature God brought to us was a common cliff or house swallow. The dark, blue black insectivors that race around the sky capturing meals. They build mud and grass nests in the most inconvenient places, over doorways or walkways, over patio furniture, leaving mounds of bird droppings in the worst of places. Until this particular summer, I had battled against them by spraying ammonia water in the areas I didn't want them to nest or knocking down the nests as they were being built. But WB was to change our whole outlook.

To really begin this story I also have to include one of our canine companions, Mayday. It was Mayday who brought WB to us. At the time she was only a pup, about 5 months old. She had been rescued from the dog pound on May 1st and so received her name, "Mayday". Of all the animals I have ever spent time with, I have never known a spirit any more gentle than hers. Her story is one that should also be told. Maybe that will be at another time.

The story of WB had it's beginning one morning in July, shortly after we had delivered our youngest to the United States Air Force Academy for summer training prior to entering their world of academics. Right here is where we should have realized that God had sent this little creature to us for a purpose. Our youngest had left the nest to pursue a future in the skies. Yes, we were "empty nesters" and feeling it all the way home in that long drive from Colorado Springs to South Texas. Once home, the void not yet filled, we filled our thoughts with support for our son. We even ran and worked out because we knew that would be what he was doing. It was a form of spiritual moral support. And a form of prayer for his strength and endurance.