Waylon, Willie, George, Johnny, Merle and Charlie are here. The one who will probably be known as Willie escaped from the cage right into the jaws of the cat, then zoomed around Prissy, into the kitchen and then into a hall cabinet before his ultimate rescue/capture. After using a laundry net to capture the errant Willie, I figured out how to move the others without incident or fuss.
Before going to pick up the birds, I spent an extra 97 dollars on toys and food since I already bought a cage for them. After learning the full story, and seeing the aftermath, I would cheerfully spend $697 dollars for a gun to shoot the person who did that in both kneecaps before leaving THEM on the side of a road with an impending cold front.
150 birds were left, I think 80 something are still living, some just barely, but hanging on, clinging to life the way only a very tiny, fragile creature can. Feathers fluffed, breathing in raggedy breaths, but still breathing, still eating, fighting to live. A high percentage of them had broken legs and feet-from being slammed inside feeder trays-apparently the person was too busy to make sure tiny bones were out of harms way before shutting the trays.
Sadder still, this the second big box of birds that has been left by the road to die recently. These animals were treated with less care and concern than I give to my feeder rats. I try and try not to be negative, to remain positive and think about the good life that the birds will have now. But every time I look at them, I am filled with rage and fear.
And not just fear of the person who did this. Fear that I really could, with no remorse, shoot them in the kneecaps and leave them by the side of the road. That side of me is hard to look at, but there it is.