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.