They’re gone. All of them.

Every time we raise wild birds, there comes a point when the bird knows it is wild and it does not belong in a cage, not even a really big cage like our upstairs bathroom which we gave over to the chimney swifts for flight practice. For a few days our mini-colony were flying round the bathroom, flopping to the floor, scaling cat furniture with their claws, and returning to their roost on one of two bath towels. But now they’re ready to be out in the world.

Reepicheep was the strongest of the swifts, and he reached the point of wildness several days ago. He would fly around the bathroom and land on the window screen, and a few days later he and ZigZag started scaling the screen going side to side like they were searching for a way through it. Pipsqueak was not as frantic, but we knew they were ready to go and even he would be wanting out soon.

We weren’t entirely sure about the best way to release them, as we’ve never raised swifts before. What if we just shoved them up the damper but they weren’t OK and we couldn’t help them? So we decided to take the screen out of the bathroom window and let them leave from there when they were ready. We would leave the screen out for a day or so in case they needed to and decided to come back.

My mother also bought a toy plastic bird whistle to try to train them to respond to a signal for food. This has only worked once, when we raised a nest of grackles several years ago. They were trained to come to the whistle, but it was sort of pathetic after they went wild– Mom called them and got three little black birds to come and circle around her head, but they were too afraid to land and be fed after they were released to the wild. Still, it worked as proof that they were still out there and had more of a chance than they did before we took them in. Maybe it would work with our chimney swifts as well.

The day the screen was removed was probably the wrong time to give them their first shower, but we had read an article on the internet by someone else who raised swifts which said they enjoy a shower from a spray bottle filled with distilled water. I do not know what made this fellow think birds enjoy a cold shower… Maybe he tried this with much younger birds the way you can supposedly train a kitten to walk on a leash? But our birds did not enjoy the shower. Being misted from a distance made Reepicheep and ZigZag freak out and immediately fly out the open window. But at least they flew upward, so we were hopeful they would find the colony of wild swifts and return to our chimney.

Pipsqueak remained alone in the bathroom for a few hours longer than his brothers. We thought he might need a day, and *I* thought maybe we should put the screen back on the window and keep fattening him up a day or so more. He was always the weakest bird, and his brothers would always sit on his head during feedings to try to get his food. That strategy had worked pretty well with their bird parents, but we human foster parents knew better. Still, he never seemed to eat as much as the others, stopping at two nuggets of soaked cat food when his brothers wanted three.

Pipsqueak was my favorite because he continued to land on my head, chest, or shoulder long after the other two stopped. And so he did when I visited him at midnight for the last time. He seemed a bit reluctant, possibly starting to turn wild like his brothers, but he still flew from his towel to grab my hair. I gave him a ride over to the bathroom mirror and we looked at each other and our reflections. Did he understand that the bird in the mirror was himself? Probably not, but I’d like to think that animals are more aware than we know. He tilted his head at different angles and took in his surroundings.

Then, he saw a mosquito. The bathroom was swarming with them since that is what happens when you take the screen out of the window during summer weather. And Pipsqueak was OFF! Off my head, up in the air, around in a circle, over to the window screen– which was no longer where he expected it to be! He scrabbled at the edge of the window for a moment before dropping out of view.

Uh Oh.

With a capital Uh and a frightfully worried Oh.

What had we done? Was Pipsqueak OK? What if he fell into the flower bed and a cat or raccoon found him? I went downstairs in the middle of the night, but there was no way I could find him in the dark. I went to bed sad and wondering how crazy and stupid my family and I were to take in birds in the first place. Robins and sparrows were easy but how much didn’t even my mother know about swifts?

…

“Tracey, come here and listen to the fireplace!”
Having gotten my attention the next day, Mom opened the fireplace doors and blew her bird whistle.

CHI CHI CHI CHI CHEEP!!!

And it sounded like exactly three birds were answering the whistle with begging noises, amongst the other nests of swifts in our chimney. After the begging died down, I heard them talking to each other up there and it seemed like they came down to investigate the damper again, but this time they didn’t come through it into the fireplace.

They’re back with their own kind, and better off than they were before we took them in. Swift rehabilitation mission accomplished!

Zigzag!

Suggested by “Pirate Joe” Joe Sledge.

With honorable mentions of his other suggestion, Blackbird the Pirate, and Jonathan Swift suggested by “Spookychick” Janelle Vreeland. My mother laughed at both of those but declared them to be too long to call a pet. And Zigzag perfectly describes the way an adult swift flies, so she thought it most apt.

Technically, Joe’s suggestion was in my Facebook comments which I did not consider in the official rules. I am fine with declaring two winners and sending a button to both him and Janelle. Congratulations to you both, and thank you for making my mother laugh on a day when she’s been feeling kinda sick otherwise.

Thanks also to everyone who submitted name ideas!

Pipsqueak, Reepicheep, and Zigzag.

I shot some video when I was feeding them yesterday; maybe I’ll edit and upload it later this week. Or after they leave us for the open skies and chimneys beyond.

We’ve taken in a lot of songbirds over the years, but never any so comical as these swifts. Huddling together, chattering frantically and begging for food when one of them accidentally bumps the others, constantly stomping and sitting on each other’s heads… They’ve feathered out and are starting to get ideas about flying, but at this point their flying is more like “falling with style” a la Buzz Lightyear. After the last feeding yesterday they climbed up to my mother’s shoulder, flapped their wings in her ears, and started taking dives off the back of the armchair.

So we’ve closed off the upstairs bathroom for them to use as a flight cage. Their climbing sock is attached to the outside of the small cage they were previously in, and some cat furniture was relocated so they have something else to climb up when they flutter to the floor. The plan is that when they get good at flying round the bathroom, we’ll take the screen out of the window so they can decide when they’re ready to go and still have a place to come back to for the next week or so after.

Author’s note:

I would never take in wild birds on my own and most people shouldn’t either. My mother is a wildlife expert with over 20 years of proven success caring for animals. She taught me how to feed the birds that just got separated from their parents too soon, like these guys who would not stay up in our chimney and were healthy but menaced by bugs. Not all baby birds need human help, and I would take an injured or sick bird I found to a vet or rehab center.

Author’s note: I should be a more responsible blogger and mention that I would never take in wild birds on my own and most people shouldn’t either. My mother is a wildlife expert with many years of proven success caring for animals. She taught me how to feed the ones that just got separated from their parents too soon, like these guys who would not stay up in our chimney and were healthy but menaced by bugs. I would take an injured or sick bird I found to a vet or rehab center.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have saved the lives of our chimney swifts on two occasions now. Well, not really. I saved one one day and accidentally upset them today.

A few days ago Reepicheep, the big noisy one, squeezed out through a loose bar in the top of the [very old] cage. He fluttered down into the washing machine with two cats in pursuit, but luckily I was there to chase them off and scoop him out unharmed. The cage bars are now re-enforced with duct tape.

Today, it was my turn to feed them while my mother went to a medical appointment. While I was feeding them, Pipsqueak fluttered away from me and fell behind the washer. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get him out again! The other two were reasonably calm, and I fed them first before leaving them sitting on the dryer and going after Pipsqueak. They were cool until I used my full strength to shove the dryer over a few inches, then–

SCREAMING. This was not the feed-me noise; it was total horrified bird panic. Their whole world would float across the room sometimes, but it had never rumbled and shifted before. THEY WERE NOT IN DANGER AT ALL BUT THEY WERE HORRIFIED. Their birdie minds were not prepared to grasp this earthquake. They shivered as I preened them with my fingers and “Aww’d” and “There there’d” them until they grew quiet, or possibly just confused. Eventually, Pipsqueak flapped his way around the washer and came forward enough that I could nudge him into reach with the stuffed sock they usually cling to. I got him back on top of the washer and fed him, but he was too upset to eat more than one bite.

This is why I shouldn’t have children. I wasn’t careful enough to keep these guys from tottering over the edge of a cliff; once one had done so, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough or coordinated enough to get him back without help. Just caring for cats, birds, and fish pushes me to my physical limits. I don’t think I could keep pace with a two year old human. Emotional nurturing is no substitute for a strong grabbing arm, good sense of balance, and fast legs. Again I say, my mother is the expert on raising living things. I’m better off behind a computer.

Despite today’s adventure, the birds are doing great! You can still suggest names for the third one. I doubt my mother would appreciate my notion of Slartibartfeather.

As I wrote a few days ago, we’ve adopted a nest of chimney swifts who fell into our fireplace and refused to go back up through the crack in the damper.

I named the big, noisy one Reepicheep,

From 2011-07-06

my mother named the quiet, weak one Pipsqueak,

From

but there is also a third bird who just doesn’t stand out.

From 2011-07-08

He’s the one on the right, next to Reepicheep. Mom’s been calling him “Middle Child,” but I think that’s kinda mean in a passive aggressive way. Also, it’s a title, not a name.

I thought we should keep up the theme of onomatopoeic names or names of creatures that are stronger than they look, but I am out of ideas. That’s where YOU come in.

Rules

Comment here with a name suggestion, or tweet with the hashtag #SwiftNames. I will pick one Tuesday, July 12 2011, at 6PM US Central.

As a prize, I thought I would draw or design something small for you and send it to you on a button or magnet.

I’ve been considering starting a Zazzle Shop and making 4 Square-like badge flair for real events that wind up on people’s bucket lists. Examples: “I’ve been to Japan!” or, “In Twitter to win at Twitter!” Maybe your badge could say “Bird Namer!” But if you don’t want a Bucket List merit badge, I could draw/design something else for you. And I will pay the printing and shipping costs to send you an actual button or fridge magnet.

For more examples of my skills of an artist, see my Deviant Art account.

Please help me name my temporary pet bird.

Author’s note: I would never take in wild birds on my own and most people shouldn’t either. My mother is a wildlife expert with many years of proven success caring for animals. She taught me how to feed the ones that just got separated from their parents too soon, like these guys who would not stay up in our chimney and were healthy but menaced by bugs. I would take an injured or sick bird I found to a vet or rehab center.

Do you like raccoons? This raccoon likes the food we’ve been putting out for Penny, one of our cats who turns near feral in the summer.