It probably is blood. Let's face it -- she fell from a nest, was caught by the cat, caught and boxed by me, placed in a hedge, fell from the hedge, caught by the cat, caught and boxed by me, driven to the pet store, placed in a cage, put inside, put outside, put inside, put outside, fed a variety of foods, and so on and so forth. She's doing remarkably well considering.
She's tiny. It is really hard see in real life if her face has been damaged. The birds that fretted over her were almost
like hummingbirds in their movements and size.
I showed Mo how to feed her tonight and she gobbled down so many worms that I finally called a halt, not knowing what might happen if a bird is overfed. She's quiet now. Ahhhhh.
Mo is completely delighted and amazed by her. She is way cooler than the gekkos and the snail eggs and the snakes and all the other things we've temporarily shared space with. He's quite smitten, even knowing that the goal is to let her go. (His favorite show these days is "Billy the Exterminator" so he knows how important it is to let things be free.)
I tried to explain E. Dickinson and Hope with feathers but he is still unconvinced by the name.
This has been a truly interesting day.
All of you are more than wonderful for getting me through it.