It's NATIONAL BURD DAY, so I thought I'd tell a little story about one of the very first birds I raised, rehabilitated, and released.

Once upon a time, a pair of Carolina Wrens made a late-season nest inside of the grill we had on the back porch. They didn't mind our presence, and the male had slept on the back porch every day for the year or so before this incident. He wasn't skittish around me, and would often bug me for peanuts. Because he was so lax around me, he never got defensive about the nest, and by the time I realized it was there... well... that's when the problem arose.

I live in Alabama. It gets hot fast, and even hotter inside of a metal grill sitting in the sun. I'm not one to bother nests, but the heat was so overwhelming I was honestly worried about the babies, and in the end it was a good thing I checked on them. They were so overheated and dehydrated that they weren't responding to dad wren or me. They hadn't even opened their eyes yet, and they were on the brink of death. The mom had already abandoned the nest. I desperately tried to cool the inside of the grill with a bowl of ice, I sprayed down the outside with cold water, and I stuck a thermometer inside the nest to keep a check on what the temp was. By nightfall, the heat inside the grill was still overbearing and I made the tough decision to take the nest inside, even though dad wren was still trying to get them to take food. They.. still wouldn't respond.

I managed to get some fluids into the babies, all five of them, and they began to perk up. I was honestly amazed they survived the day. However, as they recovered, a myriad of problems also showed their nasty little heads. One baby was unable to swallow properly, and he passed away. Two had respiratory infections and we began treatment on them, however they were so young and weak that they didn't make it. One never developed the ability to walk and stand on his own. He passed away in my hands. The last survivor, Brutus, somehow completely recovered and began to thrive.

I was mom, I was the first thing Brutus saw when his eyes opened. Every twenty minutes, round the clock, no time for sleep, I would feed him. I often took twenty minutes nap at the table with him in front of me in his own makeshift nest, and an alarm set for twenty minutes beside my face. Downstairs we have 20ft ceilings where he learned to fly, I taught him to forage, and when he was ready to go, he let me know. The photo posted is Brutus on the day of release, taking a short nap in my hand.

Since release day, Brutus has found a mate and they have nested by the house for five years now, this year will be the sixth. He pecks on the kitchen windows to get my attention, he comes inside when the back door is left open, and yes... he is a spoiled little brat. Brutus is what led me into wildlife rehabilitation, and I can't thank him enough.