UPDATED……..I finally found some Lovey pictures
I’m a bad animal rescuer, I admit it, I suck. During the course of my life I’ve rescued lots of wildlife but they all meet their demise in spite of my great effort to save them.
As far back as I can remember we’ve rescued animals, kept them and when we were at school mum or dad would let them go……. nope they died, and mum and dad lied. Only when we were little though, once we got to about 10 they just let us deal with death.
The first rescue I really remember was the magpie in the tree, he was stuck by some twine around his legs, Dad somehow got him down and we kids decided we had to have a pet magpie. All the cool kids had that and we needed him, we put him in a wire cage on the grass and fed him minced meat (ground beef) from the kitchen.We called him Cheeky. We had him for about a week , then one day after school he was gone! Mum said he got out of the cage. This confused me at the time, it didn’t seem possible he could knock the cage over and escape but as I believed my parents and had no reason not to trust them, I accepted it and moved on. They fessed up many years later, Cheeky had died.
The next victim was a black kitten, he was really little, weeks old and had been attacked by a dog and one of his hind legs had been, ripped or eaten off. Just a stump was there but animals have that will to live, they don’t just curl up and die or feel sorry for themselves like us humans. Anyway we found this kitten in our back shed. At the time we were friends with a young girl who was working for a vet just down the street, so we took the kitten there. The vet was lovely to us and assured us he would look after kitty… He totally euthanised that kitten the second we left, as well he should have, the kitten was in major pain. At least Mum and Dad told us there was probably nothing that could be done for that little pet.
Once we moved to the farm we were saving critters all over the place. We still had cats at the time and the cats would go rabbiting and bring us home rabbit kittens from burrows. Usually by the time we got up all they had left us was the entrails on the back step to say look what a good cat I am bringing this for you. But one time the cat had a live kitten and she was just messing with it as cats do. We decided we were gonna save it from it’s fate and have a pet rabbit. We named him fubsy,we put him in a wire cage but it was off the ground. It was actually a ferret hutch which was not being used. We picked fresh grass and gave him lettuce and carrots etc, all the stuff you give to rabbits. I think he lasted about a week, again, I don’t remember why he died but I suspect we didn’t feed him enough, or he died of shock. Either way fubsy was a short lived pet.
Not long after that, the cats left. We gave them away, one got shot by a farmer, mistaken as a wild cat. Mum didn’t want them around anyway because they ate the native birds and native wildlife.
On the farm we collected frog spawn from the dam and kept it in containers until they hatched into tadpoles and then grew into frogs. We kept the frogs for a while but always let them go. We managed to keep them alive. It was really cool watching them transform.
Once when we were getting firewood, Dad felled a dead tree at the front gate, unknowingly trapping a mother possum and her baby. As he cut up the tree into logs he hit the possum and fur came out. Immediately he stopped and we went about saving her. Mum ran to the house, got some needle and cotton and tried to sew her up but I think the shock of it all just killed her. We saved the baby though. He was so cute. Mum put him down her shirt in the dark, like in a pouch and we had him for a little while. At night he would come out and run up the curtains, he was really cute. Unfortunately Dad decided he didn’t want the possum in the box in the office because he’d get out and crap on the desk, so when we were away at work and school etc he had to be in the laundry. Of course Dad was right and he did get out of his box but he got stuck in the large stainless steel laundry sink. He spent all day in the sink, wet, in the winter time and when we got home he was suffering from exposure. We tried to warm him up but we failed and he died.
Much later, when I moved to Queensland, someone found a baby parrot who had fallen out of the next. He was feathered up so he was totally savable. The King decided I would know how to fix him, being a farm girl and all (he clearly knew nothing of my track record) and brought him home from his men’s group. Now my uncle raised baby parrots all the time. I had seen him feed them with an eye dropper. I knew he mashed up seed and weetbix. I knew he put them in boxes with a lamp. What I didn’t know was that he cooked the seed and weetbix. I just wet it and tried to feed the bird. It didn’t work and through my kindness I let him starve to death because I couldn’t get him to eat. But he died warm, no consolation really.
I called my uncle after he died and asked what I did wrong….. Clearly what I did wrong was not call him first….. You live and learn.
Here in the city one night, The King came home and a white pigeon/dove was huddled at the front door of our building in the cold winter late one night, so again having every faith in his farm girl, he brought him upstairs. I found something to feed him and gave him a drink and in the warmth of the apartment he perked up. We named him lovey, yes lovey dove, so kitch. He hung around for a few days shitting on everything, driving Sir Lickalot crazy. At night he would sleep in an esky (cooler) with a towel over the top. After a few days we let him out on the terrace where he hung out for a day and then took off. We expected that would be the end of it and were glad we’d helped him on him way. Having a loose pigeon/dove flying around your house is kinda odd.
The next night was like deja vu for the King, there was lovey the dove huddled in the corner of the front door. So we decided that if he wanted to be with us we better get him a cage so we can at least put him in it at night. He loved that cage, we left the door open and he’d fly in, and fly out and was king pin for a while.
But he was messy. He shit on everything. He’d strut along the back of the couch and sit 
right behind the princess at night watching tv. Then he’d have a fly and come back. Just to taunt Sir Lickalot I’m sure. He was fun but also a little annoying. One sunny spring day we let him out on the terrace and again he flew off. We decide we’d put his cage out there with food and water. He could come and go and have shelter because it was obvious to us he lacked that or he wouldn’t have been huddled at our front door…………twice.
He came back in the afternoons for about a week. Then he was just gone.
Sometimes we see a white pigeon in the park who’s not afraid of Sir Lickalot as we walk by, once he even walked over closer but we don’t really know if it was him.
Maybe it’ s just wishful thinking or the vain hope I actually saved something. I guess we’ll never know.
Last week I saw a white pigeon land on the fire escape of a building close by and tap on the window. A coincidence? Probably, but maybe it was lovey and he’s just sharing the love and poop in the neighbourhood.
I’ll keep trying to save animals when I come across them. It feels like that’s what you’re supposed to do.
Sir Lickalot should think himself extremely lucky…. cos my track record is crap.