July 31st, 2013 Emmanouela and I were going to the local Super market for potatoes. Laughing and chit chatting on our way, we suddenly saw two eggs on pedestrian’s walk. They were small and totally white. The one was smashed and an almost ready baby bird was dead inside it. The other one had some cracks, but was not seriously damaged. Our only thought was to warm the poor egg. I hold it in my hands and we continue our way. In the super market, Emmanouela made all the shopping as I could not use my hands. I was carrying my precious egg. We arrived home and we decided to keep the egg warm until we will see if anything will come from inside. Was five o’clock in the evening…… For the next seven hours, we were holding the egg in our palms and warming it up with our breaths. I have no incubator and I could not afford to buy one, so our breaths were our only solution. A housemate was laughing at me and telling me this is a probably dead egg. I should not waste my time and emotionally attached with it. I must admit his words put some doubts in my mind. But Emmanouela brought me back to my normal “Come on mom, you know it is alive. He just filled you with negative energy….” She said. I ate my dinner with one hand and when was time for sleep, we decide to take shifts. Me and Emmanouela! Two hours each one of us…. August 1st, 2013 At 2 o clock, when was again Emanouela’s turn, I felt uncomfortable to wake her up, so I decided to “just close” my eyes and rest a bit, while I placed my hands with our precious egg under my pillow. I had a horrible dream, with two men breaking my precious egg. I open my eyes to realize that my hands had open and the egg was not there anymore. Terrified, I start searching upon my bed with my fingers, in the darkness. I finally found it…. I run to turn on the light to make sure was ok. Was not. Was cracked, half open and covered with blood….. I run to my girls and with tears I told them that I probably smash the egg in my sleep. The girls were trying to comfort me ….. I was still holding it and looking at the damaged areas…when…. I saw a beak peep out…. I could not believe it…. The egg was half destroyed, but the little bird inside, covered with blood was still fighting to survive!! My sadness and despair turn to happiness!!!! I stayed there, watching the little fellow trying to hatch for hours…. And hours…. At twelve o clock in the noon, I was dizzy, with horrible headache and the baby was still unhatched… I gave it to Emmanouela so I can sleep for a while…. I slept for an hour and dreamed again that the baby was dying. I woke up in horror and run to the living room. Emmanouela was watching TV and the baby in her hands was warm and safe. I lay down on living room’s floor….. I think I slept a bit, but I am not sure. At three o clock Emmanouela was also tired and needed sleep and I had to cook and clean and iron…. But I could not leave the egg… Then I realize I had to make a small nest. I took a glass jar and I filled the half of it with cotton yarn (the one I use to knit) and some feathers from one of my boa. I placed the egg there, cover it with more feathers and put it on the window, under sun’s direct light. This technique kept it warm till approximately five o’clock. After that the sun was not enough, so we start warming up the jar with hair dresser. This gave us few more hours….but then…we had to sleep…. Emmanouela went to sleep at seven, so we will start the shifts again. But when I tried to wake her up at eleven, she said “mom, can you please hold it a bit more?” I agreed, was obvious that she needed sleep…. But so did I. I decided the best solution would be to lay down and hold the jar close to my body, so I will warm it up. I knew there were no chance the temperature to reach 37,7 degrees Celsius as it should, but was the best option. I desperately needed to sleep….. So I follow my inspiration and fall asleep with the jar close to my body and a half hatched egg inside. August 2, 2013 Six o’clock in the morning I naturally woke up, obviously refreshed from the sleep. Then I remember the jar. I checked but the little creature was not moving anymore and was cold. Very cold. I was not sure if was cold because it died or if died because got cold. But in any case, truth was that….was dead. I felt sadness and relief in the same time. I left the jar with the feathers and the egg on the floor and went downstairs to prepare my breakfast. When the girls woke up, I told them about. Emmanouela was insisting that she could listen its heart beating but I told her was her imagination or maybe the little creature was in decomposition procedure. The day moved on and I went out three times, did all what I had to do and at six, when I finally finished all my obligations, I remembered the egg. I asked Emmanouela to bring it down so we will properly bare it. She did and when I got it in my hands, I notice that the eggshell was different….more open that what I remember it to be. Then…. I thought probably was my imagination. Having to bare the half hutched egg we tried to keep alive so hard, was hurting me deeply. So I had to finish fast. I open a small hole and placed the egg there. Then quickly cover it and walked away... I went to the kitchen to wash my hands. While I was washing my hand I could not stop thinking of the eggshell. This little guy/lady, had somehow pushed it away. I could not think of any other explanation than being alive! I run through my kitchen, jump upon my coffee table and reach my garden. I fast start opening the simple “grave” and I pull the egg out. I knew I should not help the bird hatch. Supposed that if their mom (or a human) helps them, their lungs and muscles are not complete! But I did not care anymore, I had to make sure it was dead. And…..was NOT!!! Not at all. Was cold, barely breathing BUT breathing. The next thing I remember was me warming it up with my breath and the twins searching for the nearest VET. We went there and seek for advice. The nurse was not so optimistic. “I suggest you will put it to sleep now. Its highly unlike to survive. I only give it 5%” she said among other things. I thought for a while but, I knew I had no other choice. Is a living creature and if it only has 0,0000001% of chances to survive, I will do my best to help it. We took two syringes and we were advised to go and buy bird formula. Unfortunately, her writing was so hard to read that I could not read the directions. And time was passing minute by minute. Our little fighter was in need of warmth and food. I took my decision. Drove fast to the super market and buying probiotics, Weetabix and powder for baby putting from rice and corn. And here we are…. Four hours later, Glad had eaten three times and poo once. Poo proves his digestion system works. Oh, he also makes a tinny twitter from time to time. The sweetest sound I listen the last period!!!! I name it Glad from Gladiator (because he is a real fighter, against all odds) and because I am extremely glad to have him!!!!! That’s his story so far and I hope he will make it and be a strong and happy bird. I have some suspicious that he/she is a pigeon but I cannot be totally sure. So, I will just wait to see what is it! Until then…..it is a pigeon!!!!
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 20:36:42 +0000