Jos Biggs on a rescue mission today.
Nobody can say I didn’t try.
I became aware of a non-resident collar dove sitting on the back of one of the stone seats around the table in the garden.
It didn’t look very well. It appeared undamaged, but just not right. It allowed me to approach closer than was normal for a wild bird, eventually taking off and landing in the pool, on top of the cover, where it floundered around trying to climb off.
I assessed the situation: Leave it alone, as it was almost certainly going to die.
Or: Try and rescue it.
The problem with the first choice was that one or other of the cats was certain to hasten it on its celestial way, leaving behind a quantity of feathers and bits of bird, all of which would find their way into the house.
So it was: Try and rescue it.
This required more thought than I had anticipated. I lacked the obligatory shoe box, into which traditionally all rescued wildlife is put.
Even if I had a shoebox, where would I put it where it was out of cat reach?
Inspiration struck - I have a top opening cat box. Better than a shoe box, it would afford the unfortunate bird a degree of privacy, and if I dismantled the end the bird would have untroubled exit should it miraculously recover.
I fetched the box, dismantled the end and put in an old newspaper - I always have a pile of old newspapers, held in readiness of a cat being sick, or me dropping something, like a glass for instance.
Next I needed a small container into which to put some water. That involved getting out the kitchen steps, climbing precariously up them, fetching the small container from the cupboard, climbing down the steps, which required another act of bravery on my part, and putting the steps away again.
It might need seed to aid its recovery. That was easy, a small saucer was perfect for the job.
I put the makeshift Avine Hospital on top of the paper recycling box, out of cat reach but with access to the outside world.
Now all I had to do was capture the bird and transfer it gently to its Recovery Room.
I considered throwing a towel over it, but scrapped that idea. It is very difficult to aim a towel accurately, and towels don’t fly well - they flap, and take their time to reach the ground.
I know! The pool net - perfect! I took up the net and approached, trying to appear unthreatening.
I missed. The bird flew off a few feet, so I followed it, exuding calm.
I missed again. The bird had cottoned on to my tactic and dodged.
The same thing happened twice more, then the bird summonsed up possibly the last of its resources and flew off - straight into the middle of a Mojácar Palm.
This palm is about 6 feet tall and twice as wide. It’s fronds reach all the way down to the ground, and, like all palms, it is incredibly prickly.
I leant on the pool net, cogitated and reached a decision. I was not going in after it. It would have to survive or die. I went indoors, put the cat box together again, rose valiantly up the kitchen steps to return the water bowl, descended valiantly to floor level, put the steps away and threw the seed outside, where other birds could dine on an unexpected feast.
What has happened to it I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen any sign of it, alive or dead.
But I did try.
