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    Fritz the Uncommon Grackle
    Fritz the Uncommon Grackle
    Fritz the Uncommon Grackle
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Fritz the Uncommon Grackle

    By Lili White

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    About this ebook

    "Birds of a feather flock together"—unless the bird is Fritz—a common grackle hatchling that had been abandoned by her bird family and was on the brink of death when Fate intervened. Fritz was cold and featherless as she huddled under the sweeping branches of a spruce tree. By chance, a couple found Fritz and took her in to care for, and eventually release back into the wild. Never did they imagine how a tiny creature would have such a dramatic impact on their lives.

         Fritz's adventures provide a rare insight into the day-to-day antics and behavior of a wild bird in a domestic setting.The story reveals astounding aspects of a bird's instincts, personality and intelligence; impossible to observe in the wild. Readers of this unbelievable (but true)  story may never again view a bird— particularly a common grackle—without thinking of Fritz.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLili White
    Release dateDec 16, 2017
    ISBN9781386297130
    Fritz the Uncommon Grackle

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      Book preview

      Fritz the Uncommon Grackle - Lili White

      In memory of Fritz

      and her feline friends: Snooper, Sasha and Columbo

      Introduction

      BIRDS OF A FEATHER flock together—unless the bird is Fritz—a common grackle hatchling that had been abandoned by her bird family and was on the brink of death when Fate intervened. Fritz was cold and featherless as she huddled under the sweeping branches of a spruce tree. By chance, a couple found Fritz and took her in to care for, and eventually release back into the wild. Never did they imagine how a tiny creature would have such a dramatic impact on their lives. 

      Fritz's adventures provide a rare insight into the day-to-day antics and behavior of a wild bird in a domestic setting. The story reveals astounding aspects of a bird's instincts, personality and intelligence; impossible to observe in the wild. Readers of this unbelievable (but true)  story may never again view a bird— particularly a common grackle—without thinking of Fritz.

      Foreword

      OF THE MANY BIRDS I have rescued and nursed back to health over the years, Fritz is undoubtedly the most memorable. I was fascinated with the abandoned, featherless hatchling from the moment I first held it in my hands. The odds of survival were greatly stacked against her, but Fritz was determined to beat them and live.

      It was a rare privilege to have Fritz as part of our family—a family that included three cats she befriended and loved. Intelligent, charming, comical, mischievous, fearless, resilient: all of these words describe Fritz. Although Fritz's species is known as a common grackle, without a doubt, there was nothing common about her.

      Lili White

      Forest in the City

      AFTER WEEKS OF TRAIPSING though house after house with no luck, little did we suspect that our house-hunting days were about to end. The ad that had prompted us to call about the property sounded enticing: Pampered brick bungalow; sits on unbelievable lot; nestled in forest in city on quiet cul-de-sac. Must be seen! From experience, we knew that some of the best-sounding real estate ads had been the most misleading. From what we could see standing at the front door of the house with our agent, the lot was unbelievable all right—unbelievably dreary.

      After exchanging some pleasantries with the owners, our agent escorted us to the back door. It had started to rain, but that did not stop us from going outside to explore the rest of the unbelievable lot on our own. We stepped out on a  patio that was sheltered from the wind by clusters of cedar trees, white pines and a stately blue spruce. To our left was a steep hill scattered with mature birch, maple and oak trees. A rock garden at the base of the hill was supported by a low stone retaining wall where a statue of two pigeons—beak to beak—sat at one end. To our right, a huge tamarack sported two bird feeders swinging from its outstretched branches. A giant weeping willow dominated the back of the property.

      Don and I looked at each other in utter amazement. The tiny front yard was a big disappointment but the back yard was incredible. We had no idea that the house was situated on a pie-shaped lot and that most of the property was at the back.

      The cold drizzle failed to dampen our spirits as we eagerly hiked to the top of the hill to survey the rest of the property. From our vantage point we saw a fenced-in vegetable garden in the corner. A flower bed, ablaze with brightly-colored mums, ran along the entire length of the side fence. Two black squirrels playfully chased each other around the willow tree as we made our way back down the hill, crisp leaves rustling under our feet. By the time we were finished exploring the rest of the backyard, we knew we had finally found our new home.

      We bought the house from the Rankin's, an affable elderly couple. They were avid bird lovers, apparent by the number and variety of bird feeders they had in the backyard. Mrs. Rankin expressed her concern over the birds they fed on a daily basis. She feared they would go hungry or starve if their steady winter food supply was abruptly cut off. We pictured colorful blue jays, cardinals and perky black-capped chickadees flocking to our yard. Feeding the birds would be our pleasure we assured  her.

      The Rankin's insisted on providing all the bird feed we would need to last through the rest of the winter. Every two weeks someone came by with bags of mixed bird seed, sunflower seeds and green garbage bags filled with loaves of day-old bread. They also brought enough corn to feed a resident flock of more than forty pigeons.

      We moved into our new home at the end of December and quickly adapted to the daily routine of feeding our backyard friends. Early each morning we heaped a loaf of sliced bread and a handful of peanuts onto two platform feeders. While I filled the hanging feeders to the brim with bird seed, Don cleared the snow from an area under the weeping willow where he scattered a pail of cracked corn for the pigeons. Within seconds of dispersing the corn there was a rush of wings beating overhead as the flock simultaneously swooped down from where they huddled in the surrounding trees.

      A variety of smaller birds fluttered down from their morning meeting places in the pine and cedar trees. They chattered noisily, crowding around the hanging feeders as the squirrels scurried about  gathering peanuts and hunks of bread for their breakfast. In this setting it was not hard to imagine that we lived in a secluded country retreat. It was like a forest in the city after all.

      As winter slipped away, the migratory birds gradually returned from their southern habitats and we noticed a distinct change in the type of avian visitors dining at the feeding stations. The red-breasted robins were one of the first birds to announce the coming of the spring. Gradually, red-winged blackbirds, grackles, sparrows and starlings outnumbered the juncos and chickadees. Rarely a week went by when Mother Nature failed to leave us a surprise. We often climbed up the hill and more often than not,  our three curious cats - Snooper, Sasha and Columbo tagged along.

      We soon became acquainted with some of our regular outdoors visitors. There was a one-legged pigeon we named Gimpy, who had adapted quite well to his handicap. Another pigeon often followed us on our walks around the yard on foot. The cats were too preoccupied with catching bugs and munching grass to bother with him. In any case, the pigeon did not seem to be concerned with them in the least.

      Hello Birdie

      THE BACKYARD WAS A year-round haven for birds. By the time we had lived in the bungalow for a year, we had taken in a number of sick or injured ones. They did not all survive, but it was comforting to know that our efforts made their last days or hours as painless and peaceful as possible. Each ailing bird had its own personality. However briefly in our care, they never failed to touch our hearts in some small way. On a rather chilly morning in June, a tiny creature was about to change our lives in a way we could never have imagined.

      It started out as a normal Thursday, which meant rushing like mad to get ready for work. Don always drove to his job in downtown Toronto where he worked as a sound designer in the film industry. My part-time bank job was in the city too but I usually took the commuter train as our work schedules rarely coincided. That day I happened to be catching a ride with Don.

      Our cats trailed after us as

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