When I was a kid, we found a baby Robin in one of our window wells. Amazingly, Mom let me raise him. We called the Zoo and they said to feed him watered-down meat baby food with an eye dropper.
I think I fed that Robin every hour on the hour for what felt like weeks on end.
We had an unfinished portion of the basement, so he lived there and flitted around and perched. And pooped. And pooped and pooped and pooped, LOL! It only took a few weeks for him to feather out; like raising a chicken chick.
I named him ‘Marvin’ and he would ride on the handlebars of my bike! Then, when he was big enough to dig his own worms, he left us.
Mom calls me every Spring to tell me when ‘Marvin’ has come back from his winter travels. :)
Great Story!
Interesting thought...that Robins are CARNIVORES!
Quit messin’ with me, Diana. “Marvin” is my middle name. Don’t make me fly to Wisconsin and badger you. : )
Hubby had a young blue jay that a student brought in with an injured wing. Since we lived in a trailer, in was not a pleasant experience when hubby let him out of the cage to fly and poop. Eventually he met a sad end-a tale that will not be told.