Close Encounters of the Bird Kind

The FLAP volunteers who brave the chill of the dark, early mornings, rising from warm beds to make their lonely way downtown are a powerful source of inspiration to the rest of us.

"What," I asked myself shamefacedly after the single occasion when I dragged myself out of bed at 4 a.m., "can give these people the strength to do this week after week?"

If pressed, they will speak of the joy of releasing a rescued bird, of the importance of conservation, of the heartbreak of seeing a bird succumb to terrible injuries. But asked for favourite stories and the moments of humour in their work emerge.

Irene Fedun began bird rescue work more than four years ago. "In my early days I made collection bags out of old cotton clothes but," she says with a sheepish grin, "I didn't do too great a job on the drawstrings." A tiny Ruby-crowned Kinglet discovered this one spring morning as Irene drove down the Gardiner en route to her Humber River release site.

The kinglet had nuzzled her way free of the collection bag. Now the escaped passenger zipped around the inside of the car - white-ringed eyes lending her a startled appearance - as Irene ducked and tried to maintain her concentration driving. Abruptly the kinglet settled along the top of the back seat. This was a relief. Now Irene could watch her in the rear-view mirror.

"She fluttered around back there, but it didn't seem to take her any time at all to figure out the concept of glass," says Irene. "She quickly realized that there was no way out." Suddenly, the kinglet flew towards the windscreen. Irene cringed, fearing a ghastly collision between bird and glass. Instead, the little bird landed neatly on the dashboard.

There she strolled about, oblivious to the speeding scenery, intent only on gobbling up the smorgasbord of bugs she found on the dashboard. "It's amazing what takes up residence in your car when you don't wash it for three years," laughs Irene. "I decided then and there that I would never clean my car again!"

"Of all Ontario wild birds, kinglets are the most fearless and the most curious," says Michael Mesure, who also had a strange encounter with one of these diminutive charmers.

One morning Michael was releasing birds in the Rosedale valley. "When you set a healthy bird free it darts right out of the bag," says Mike. "If the bird sits still it is probably injured or stunned and needs medical attention."

Checking on a Golden-crowned Kinglet that refused to emerge, Mike peered into the collection bag. The kinglet peered right back at him. Gently Mike reached inside and lifted the bird out. The kinglet latched onto his index finger with both feet but wouldn't fly away. A quick examination indicated no injuries and the bird was obviously alert so Mike gave his hand a ittle shake. The kinglet clung tighter. Gingerly Mike tried to pull the bird off his finger. The kinglet dug in his heels (or, in this case, claws). "I remember thinking that if I tried any harder his little legs would come off!"

So Mike set about releasing the other birds into the early morning sunshine of the wooded ravine. There was plenty of time to have a good look at his "passenger". It was obviously a male. Light greyish-brown breast and olive back and wings contrasted with the bird's showy crown: a bold patch of orange ringed by yellow and framed by two jet-black stripes.

With the kinglet still refusing to budge, Mike shrugged and climbed into his Toyota, heading back up Mt. Pleasant Road to his home in Thornhill. The bird hung on as Mike steered. "Pulling into the driveway 45 minutes later, I wondered if I was going to have to shower with him," says Michael, obviously still enthralled by the encounter. He decided to make a cup of tea instead.

Mug in hand, Mike headed out to the back deck to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine. The kinglet's bright colours shone in the light. "I was admiring him when all of a sudden he just gave a mighty shiver, fluffed up his feathers and flew off into the pines. I was kind of sorry to see him go." Almost two hours had passed from the time Michael reached into the collection bag till the moment the kinglet resumed his journey.

It is only from a distance that most of us experience birds. Through a pair of binoculars or the glass of our kitchen windows we strain to see the flash of feather, the sparkle of an eye. But for brief moments FLAP's bird rescuers encounter these creatures in an intimate connection. This is the reward won by those who face the shrill of the alarm, migration after migration. They are the people who inspire the rest of us to keep on working to secure a safe by-way for migrating birds.

Sé Keohane

Sé Keohane is the FLAP Treasurer and has helped raise funds for bird rescue efforts over the past three years.