Fuzz, the Wonder Starling

On June 4th, 1997 Cathy found a baby starling that somehow survived a 25 foot fall from the peak of our roof. Dubbed "Fuzz" (for his initial appearance), he certainly had an unusual upbringing for a starling. We fed him first oatmeal, then (ironically) cat food mixed with water and warmed. His injured leg quickly recovered and his stubble of quills grew dramatically into inch-long spears which flowered into soft gray feathers at the tips. After he outgrew his shoebox, we moved him to a larger box on the floor (which he hated). During the day we generally tried to keep him confined to furniture that we draped with old cloths. He liked to play with buttons and paper clips, although he mostly enjoyed just being with people. These birds are very social creatures. The fun really began when he learned to fly (tip for other would-be animal rescuers—starlings don't potty train).

Fuzz finally became too animated for an indoor environment, so we kept him outside during the day and he flew back in at night. He came back for food often (cat food and blueberries) and would land on our heads or shoulders when we called. Cathy would wake up at dawn and take him out to Erin's garden to teach him how to forage food for himself. She ate raw grubs then regurgitated them for him. Perhaps I exaggerate. She dug up worms and slugs and fed them to him. Within three weeks, Fuzz was spending the nights outside as well.

On the night of June 25th, there was a rather violent thunderstorm and we were very worried about him but he seemed to be okay in the morning. Later in the afternoon, perhaps because he was tired from being up all night, he lost his footing on the top of our rear chimney and got stuck in the bottom (a 30-foot fall). Cathy didn't see this happen, but became suspicious when he didn't respond to her calls and the last time she had seen him Fuzz was on top of the chimney. She organized a search and rescue operation which involved disconnecting the vent from our gas water heater, fishing a rope down to the bird, and using a mirror to shine a light in so the bird could see the rope and hop on to be lifted up to safety!

The neighbors weren't quite prepared for Fuzz—not shy of humans, he landed on a few unsuspecting heads including one poor terrorized woman walking in the alley. Gradually Fuzz began spending more time away from us. He was clearly angry and frustrated that we would not come fly with him into the trees (we do have our limits), and he was also angry that we would not let him into the house. (Also, I think he got tired of cat food.) Finally on June 30th he left for good. We searched and called around the neighborhood, but never got the unique chirp that we had learned to recognize in response to our voices. A couple of weeks later Cathy noticed a starling and called "Here, Fuzz" out of habit. Instead of flying away, the starling flew closer and looked at her for awhile, then left after a few minutes. We like to believe this confirmed that Fuzz made a successful transition back to the wild where he belongs.