We’ve had quite a few animal adventures lately.
First, there’s the bird situation:
While we were at the beach, a robin decided to make the space above and to the left of our front door her home. There’s a nest and everything, made of twigs, grass, and Easter basket stuffing. It’s quite lovely and I’m of the opinion that it adds a certain charm to the front of our house.
The neighbors told me this robin tried to nest on their porch (how they can tell the difference between the 1,506 robins flying around is beyond me, but that’s beside the point) and they knocked her nest down but I just can’t do that. She’s an adorable little thing, all red-bellied and squawky. The best part is that we can see her from inside the house, as her nest is right up against a window and I’m hoping, once the eggs I presume she’s sitting on hatch, to get some good pictures of ugly naked little baby birds.
I’m fully aware that the logical thing to do would be to knock down the nest and tell this lovely robin to screw off and nest in something crazy like a tree, but I just can’t. I know there will be bird shit on my front porch and squawking little baby birds and whatnot but I don’t care. She’s just doing her momma-bird thing and I can’t fault her for that. Even if she is really super annoying when we walk out the front door and she flys to a bush near the house and squawks like a lunatic bird at us until we leave. It’s endearing, really.
Then, there were the rats:
When we pulled into a parking spot in the parking garage today to switch vehicles, Andrew noticed three tiny, eyes-still-closed rats laying in the middle of a parking space. They were the cutest, most adorable little things I’ve ever seen, all teaspoon tiny and cute and absolutely precious. I was perplexed as to what to do with little tiny baby rats and so, not wanting them to get run over by some crazy state employee, I moved them. I put them on a 3×5 card with the prod of a pen and put them in a corner where I hoped they’d be safer.
I thought about them all day. All day long while we were with Soldiers shooting off really, really big guns with lots of loud noise. It was really frickin’ awesome, but still. I kept thinking about the little rat babies and how they’re all helpless and tiny and don’t have their eyes open yet and how they need someone like me, who was born in the year of the rat coincidentally, to save them and raise them into grown-up vermin.
So, as we came back to the parking garage from a super wicked long day at work in the sun and the tick-infested lands of Fort Pickett, Virginia, I was hoping the rats would be gone. I wanted to return to the parking garage with no trace of the rats because then I could think their mother came and saved them from certain death and lalalala everything is rainbows and sugar cookies. But no.
We pulled into the same spot we were in this morning and there they were. Right in the damn middle of the parking space, wiggling something fierce and being so damn adorable I almost wept (seriously – rat babies and crazy cute – you google some pictures of their preciousness).
So I sat there for a while, next to the rat babies and watched them wiggle in their cute little rat way while listening to my own heart break into LITTLE TINY BITS inside my chest until I realized I would be absolutely insane to take these little critters home with me because really, WHAT THE HELL WOULD I DO WITH THREE, POSSIBLY DISEASE-INFECTED WILD RATS FROM A RICHMOND PARKING GARAGE? I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?
Andrew and I tried to convince ourselves that maybe rats just mature very quickly and by the time morning comes their little eyes will be open and they’ll be able to eat the frosted flakes I left for them and everything will be happy and cheery and fabulous. And I could have gone on thinking that, but no, I had to come home and GOOGLE BABY RATS BECAUSE I COULDN’T JUST LEAVE IT THE HELL ALONE AND GET ON WITH MY LIFE and google told me that baby rats open their eyes after two weeks and shouldn’t be without mamma until about four or five weeks and now I’m pretty much determined I’m going to hell because I didn’t rescue three baby rats.
So help me, I’m thisclose to going back to the parking garage, scooping them all up, getting an eyedropper and becoming a crazy rat lady.