Birds cry, too

I’m one of those who frown on making pets out of birds. I think it is cruel to restrain them in a cage when they can have the whole sky.

However, I found myself reviewing that notion when workers found a kilyawan (Black-naped oriole) hanging by its leg from a branch on a tree beside our house.  At first, I thought that the men were reaching up with a stick to get at a mango before I realized two things: it wasn’t a mango tree; the “mango” (the kilyawan is a yellow and black bird), was fluttering its wings.

The men were trying to cut off the branch to get at the bird, whose leg was obviously trapped. I joined the group, lent them our longer “sungkit” (pole which ends with a hook which is used to get at hard-to-reach stuff or in our case, fruits) which they used to bring down the branch. We gathered around the bird and saw that its leg had gotten entangled in straw rope, which had snagged on the tree branch.

As soon as they removed the straw rope from the leg, it became apparent that the bird could not fly or walk or even stand. It lay on the ground, struggling to move away and crying out in a shrill tone.  All around us, we could hear answering calls and from time to time, a kilyawan or two would swoosh past above us.

The men did not know what to do. Neither did I. They turned to walk away, these men who had come to trim the grass. They shrugged when I asked them what they were going to do. “Kakainin lang yan ng mga pusa (the cats will just eat it)”, one of them said.

His companions stayed at a safe distance. They did not want to take the bird. It wasn’t a nice thing they could take home for a pet. In their minds, they had already sentenced it to death.

I saw the death sentence too, but I couldn’t just leave it on the ground. The bird would be defenseless against the stray cats. Maybe, if I took it home and gave its leg time to heal, it would fly again and be free. That or I get a non-flying bird for a pet.

A closer look at the bird inside the house had me worrying that it might die if I didn’t get help for it. I called the Batangas city environment and natural resources office (CENRO) and got Sally, who said they didn’t have a vet on hand so they would have to raise the matter to the provincial office and get back to me.

I wasn’t very optimistic about any follow-through so it was a pleasant surprise when I got a text message early evening from Sally that a forest ranger from the Provincial Environment office would be taking the kilyawan the next morning.  I was just so thankful as I was getting quite agitated by the bird’s piteous cries.

By this time, the crippled bird had gone silent. I even thought it had died on me. It slept. It ate very little of the mango that we gave it or the grains of rice we thought it would prefer.

I woke up to that very distinct kilyawan cry. Our crippled bird was up early and had resumed its shrill cries, which were being answered outdoors. I opened our kitchen door to the sight of kilyawans alternately flying past the yard in front of the kitchen door and landing on the branches of trees nearby.

To make a long story short, we decided to bring our crippled bird to the provincial environment office upon learning that the forest ranger would be on a motorbike. I felt it would be easier on the bird to be inside the relative stability of a car than to be rattling around in a cage on a motorbike.

The forest ranger took one look at it and exclaimed that it was a baby bird. He also gave me a pitying look. I might have imagined it, but I think he saw the death sentence too.

Still, they asked for details, took it aside and assured me that it would be driven to Calauan where their animal rescue unit (and the vet) was housed.

I left with mixed emotions. I felt relieved that I would no longer be responsible for the bird. I also felt sad. I’m not very hopeful it will regain the use of its leg. I’m not even sure it will live long.

As soon as I got home, I heard it. A cry over and over from a kilyawan who kept flying  from branch to branch of the trees nearest the kitchen door.  I looked around for its companions, but there were none. It must be the mother. (end)