owlie

My nephew came to visit at tea time yesterday. One minute after his departure he telephoned to say there was a baby owl sitting in the middle of the road, and he had only just managed not to run over it. We thought we would pop out and have a look. By the time we arrived it had shuffled into a nettlebed. Nephew was carefully keeping an eye on it. It looked very woebegone. Scrunched up, cold and its feet all curled up into little fists. The farmer, who had the foresight to pick up his work gloves, gathered the lonesome stranger into his hands. It looked pretty sad. We think it has fallen out of the HUGE ash tree which is close by. No sign of a parent. No sound from the infant. The newphew, his good deed done for the day, rushed off to work. The farmer and I brought the infant home in a small box. I googled Raptor Rescue. Nearest rescue is over 40 miles away. I telephoned for advice. Nice man said babe needed to be kept at 70 degrees, tried with worms, and if it survived the night might be releaseable on Saturday. Babe wouldn't eat any worms which the Farmer manfully dug from our parched and solid earth. I popped the owl box inside the chick box, thus sharing the heat lamp. Crossed fingers.

This morning Owlie is looking really perky. Still won't eat any live worms. I searched my drawers! Found an old syringe. Loaded it up with puppy boiled chicken and rice from my fridge. Topped up with water. Tapped the infant beak. His eyes opened wide! He opened his beak, made some quite cute noises, and stuck the syringe down his own throat. I pressed the plunger, slowly, and Bobs your Uncle, he fed beautifully!

Now all I need to know is how much, how often, and how can I stop Owlie becoming tame? Questions, questions.