• #21
I raised a blackbird when I was a kid. It was a featherless newborn, not more than a week old, if that old, when I got him/her. I used to catch nightcrawlers for fishing, and had a large box of dirt I kept them in. That bird thrived on everything I gave it, and ate every single one of those many, many dozens of nightcrawlers I had on hand. Finally there came a time when it was time for me to release the bird, so I used both hands to throw it up into the air gently, and he would fly a few feet, and return to me. Everytime I threw him up, he would fly a little further, until I think he finally got the idea that he needed to be flying with the rest of the birds. The next spring when my mother went out to hang clothes, guess who showed up--yep--my bird. He wouldn't allow me to pick him up, but he would come right up to me, as if he wanted to show me that he was OK. We spent a little time together and then he was off again. He did show up a few more times that year for brief visits. That's a nice memory.
 

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