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"Aw, Koelle. You're still known for saving animals!" That's what one of my high school friends wrote when she saw this picture from me:

It's true. Growing up, our home had times when it was a wildlife refuge of sorts. In addition to the pets we adopted from the Humane Society, the no-eared rabbit my sister found at a county fair, and the handful of neighborhood stray cats we took in, we also rescued numerous wild baby bunnies, a baby red squirrel, and cut up tons of worms to feed to the unfortunate birds who were bumped from their nests. Take a look:

Jacob, Ruby, my sister's rescue cat, and "brown one," aptly named by a two year old!

Jake and Brown One - 2005

My dad, Jacob and "White One" (of course!), 2005.

The things our pets endure!

And of course, my beloved Zielia. The best rescue pet of all. She graced my life for 9 wonderful years.

I found her at a local park near dusk. She was so tiny, her whole body fit in the palm of my hand.

She screamed the whole way home, and as you can see, she never really lost that crazed aspect of her personality. She loved me, but everyone else were just intruders in our lives, in her opinion! How I miss her sometimes!

I wish I had some photos of Nibbles, our earless rabbit. He was definitely unique. My sister found him at a fair in North Carolina when she was visiting my aunt. Megan must have been 6 or 7 at the time. The rabbit was born with only a portion of one back leg, and the mother had tried to kill it, by eating it. The person raising the rabbits found him before the mother got any farther than the ears. The rabbit was hand-fed from then on. When Megan stumbled upon him, his ears were still healing and she was horrified that none of the other kids at the fair wanted to play with him or even look at him. They called him "disgusting." She called my parents crying, asking them to please allow her to bring the bunny home. They agreed, and she aptly named him "Nibbles," because his mother chewed his ears off. We joked that she should have called him "nibbleD," since he was the nibblee, not the nibbler! He lived for 12 years!

We also had a stray cat that arrived at our house full term pregnant and completely emaciated. She was full of worms and a complete wreck. We took her to the vet, and she ended up needing an emergency C-section. There were 8 kittens in her tiny body, all of their heads smaller than quarters. None of the kittens survived. Mom had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia and spent 5 days in the ICU at the vets office. The vet also performed a hysterectomy on her while she was there. My mom said, "400$ later, that damn cat is ours." Kitty lived with us for about 5 years before disappearing back into the streets.

Most of the animals we saved with great success. We released many wild bunnies into the wild, and the squirrel that my sister found was released too. We fed it baby formula with an eye dropper for a long time, and soon it became a family pet. It used to grab a nut, run up our curtains and hang upside down eating. It was really cute. But when it went through puberty, it became aggressive. He lived his adult life out in our back yard.

I don't remember a single baby bird success story, though. They're such fragile creatures. They need to be fed special diets every 15-20 minutes during daylight hours. And they are so tiny. Every time we tried to save one, it ended in tragedy.

Unfortunately, I have to say the story is the same for our recent rescue attempt. Jacob and the neighbor boys found it dangling from a string attached to its nest a few days ago. Greg unwrapped the thread, which had become entangled around the bird's wing, and placed it back into the nest. The mom returned immediately and we were hopeful that he was reacclimated. However, the next afternoon, I found him laying on our porch floor. Knowing the likelihood that the bird would survive in our care, Greg placed the bird back in the nest again. He noted that the bird was half the size of its siblings. Not a good sign.

Two days ago, when I came home from work, it was on the porch again. I thought for sure it was dead, and grabbed a baggie to dispose of it. When I got close, the darn thing chirped and feebly lifted its head. Oh boy, I thought. What now?

It was obviously unwanted in its home, but the little guy had an incredible will to live. He survived dangling for God knows how long, and two 8 foot falls from the nest and was still kicking! As a mother, I just couldn't ignore it. Even though I knew it probably wouldn't survive, I couldn't live with myself knowing that I just let him die. What if he did survive? What if there was a chance. I had to try.

So Greg and I did our research. I chopped up food for it and fed it with an eyedropper for the rest of the day. I settled him in for the night, and when I woke up the next morning, it was still alive. I fed it yesterday morning, and then took him to my in-laws for care while I was at work. Unfortunately, the little guy stopped breathing sometime in the late morning. It's sad, but I can't say I'm surprised. In all honesty, I'm glad it died sooner rather than later. Part of me wondered how much I was prolonging its misery rather than truly helping it.

So, farewell, little bird. I hope you are up in bird heaven flying around with some new-found friends. Please pass the message on to your mother to stop building nests on my porch because, although I have a soft spot for an infant of any species, I'm frankly tired of all the poop your family is leaving on my carpet!