Flyaway Read Online Free PDF Page A

cage, and they had exchanged knowing glances when I told them firmly that I was not taking any nestlings or injured birds—only healthy adults ready for a flight cage.
    â€œYeah, good luck with that,” said Joanne.
    There was the barely audible sound of a car door slamming, and both kids bolted from the room. We heard the front door open, Maggie’s voice greeting the kids, and a moment later she was escorted into the kitchen. Zack let out a piercing shriek, bowed energetically, flashed his eyes, and shouted, “Hello!” Mario, more circumspect, regarded the new human suspiciously and withheld comment.
    â€œDid you bring him? Is he in there?” demanded Skye, vibrating with excitement and trying to peer into the cardboard carrier Maggie was holding.
    â€œI don’t think she’d drive all the way over here and bring us an empty box,” said Mac.
    â€œNot to worry,” said Maggie. “I guarantee you that whenever I show up here with a box there will be a bird in it.”
    â€œAnd so it begins,” said John. “Will this be the best of times or the worst of times?”
    Maggie grinned at him. “Probably both,” she said.
    We all trooped outside, past John’s office and to the finch’s temporary new home. John and the kids took up positions outside while Maggie and I entered the flight cage. I had furnished both sides with hanging tree limbs and leafy branches, and I planted a live tree in each. On the ground were logs, small brush piles, and shallow rubber saucers for drinking and bathing. In each flight one end of a long, slender tree limb rested on the ground and the other on a perch, allowing birds who couldn’t fly to hop up to a comfortable spot. The connecting door between the two sections swung easily and latched securely. There must be something I’ve forgotten, I thought to myself as I opened the finch’s carrier.
    The diminutive bird looked up, jumped onto the rim of the carrier, then hopped down onto the ground. He paused briefly to assess his new surroundings, looking like a tiny ringmaster dwarfed by a cavernous Big Top. Making no attempt to fly, he scooted up the angled limb and onto a leafy branch, where he regarded us with concern.
    â€œIs that it?” asked Skye incredulously from outside. “Is that all there is?”
    â€œThat’s all for now,” I said, as Maggie and I filed out of the flight cage and latched the door.
    Later that night I turned to John. “I know this is unprofessional of me,” I said. “But I hope he’s all right out there. He’s all alone in a new place. I hope he’s not scared. Do you think he’s lonely?”
    John smiled, blissfully unaware of how many times he and I would have similar exchanges over the next five years.
    â€œI’m sure he’s fine,” he said. “He’s a wild bird.”

Chapter 5
THE ONE EXCEPTION
    After four days in the flight cage, the house finch was eating well and seemed comfortable, but had made no attempt to fly. I was wary of chasing him, envisioning my very first songbird launching himself off the branch, crashing to the ground, and breaking his formerly dislocated wing. With this in mind I called and made an appointment with Dr. Alan Peterson, a good friend who had promised to donate his veterinary services should I ever need his help.
    â€œA house finch?” asked the receptionist. “You mean a wild bird? I don’t think Dr. Peterson sees wild birds. Hold on, let me check.”
    After a minute she returned. “When would you like to come in?” she asked.
    There is no one more important to a rehabilitator’s professional life than a skilled veterinarian, and those willing to help injured wildlife are few and far between. Treating wildlife requires an added layer of knowledge, as treatments that may work for domestic animals don’t necessarily work for wild ones. Veterinary medicine, often