We have baby robins in a nest in our tree. Most birds don't survive long in our yard, Jake the lab, gets most of them. He can't help it, he loves to carry them around in his mouth until they drowned in his slobber. He never leaves a mark on them, just carries them around. We don't use our dogs for hunting, so Jake feels he is a bird dog without a purpose and finds his own to play with. Yesterday the boys beat Jake to the baby robin, baby birds are so easy to get a hold of. So I tell them don't mess with it, you will hurt it. Do they listen, well no, why would they listen to mom? They chased it around the yard until exhaustion set in and the poor thing couldn't even fly anymore, and that is when the rain started, it was coming down in buckets. Well there are the boys soaked to the bone, and in they come, the baby holding tight to the little robin.
"He can't fly mom, and we can't get him to his nest."
"Damnit, get that bird back outside, you can't keep it in here."
"But mom..."
"ok let me see it."
The bird didn't appear to be scared at all. I got a towel, wrapped him up, and it just sat there looking at me. I got it all dry and he fluffed up his feather. Then it stopped raining and I took the poor little thing back outside, it hopped back inside. I took it to the tree, and it fell out of the tree! So I just left it and told the boys not to mess with it. Well anyone that speaks 3-5 year old knows that what I said translated into, "pick up that baby robin and carry it around, and squeeze it and pet it, and drop it several time." Which they did! I looked out and the baby had it by the tail feathers. He didn't mean to hurt his birdy, but the little baby robin was dead.
"I told you boys not to touch the bird!"
"He my friend, mom. He lobs me!" the baby says holding the bird close to him.
"Honey you killed him, now his mom is going to miss him."
"No he not dead, he dut sleeping, he tired mom, we played hard."
I took the baby bird from my baby's hands and told him the bird was dead and that is what happens with you mess with wild little birds, they die. The boys were all very sad, they never wanted to kill it they just wanted to touch it and play with it.
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