Every time I tell myself I'm not going to hand feed again I prove myself wrong. Such was the case with Ruby. My African Red Headed finches aren't the best parents. Sometimes they do better than others but they have yet to raise their chicks to adulthood. A few of their chicks in the past were taken in and successfully raised by Society finches. I had hoped the Societies would do the same again but this time they did not.

The Society hatched out 3 Red Head chicks. Because of their past experience I didn't check the nest until the fourth day and discovered that they were not feeding my little Red Heads. I rushed the trio upstairs, turned on the brooder and whipped up their first meal. They were all so weak and shriveled looking I didn't have much hope that any would survive but I was determined to do my best for them.

Sadly two did die within the first 2 days but the third clung to life. She was so weak and sickly I had to force crop feed her several times. She'd regain her strength for a few days then suddenly get weak again. A little Guardian Angel was added to her hand feeding formula after the first week in my care. Because she was so weak and so small I didn't want to put too much of any type of extra supplement in her food. She was already getting Nutri-start and Gerber's.

There were many nights I was sure she was going to die. She'd have trouble eating, then breathing, and then pooping. It was one problem after the next with this little finch but through it all she hung in there.

When she was 8 days old and still not making any noise I really began to worry. Not only was she relatively inactive, and had a tendency to hold her leg out to the side, but she was still as quiet as a newborn. This is when I started lightly touching her beak more to stimulate her to beg for food. It took several feedings but she did realize the food came faster when she would squeak. Over the next few days/week she started making more and more noise until I could hear her calling while I was sitting in my office. Now that's how loud a baby Red Head should be.

She did get off to a slow start in life but once she started growing and getting stronger she took off like a weed. The larger she got the more she'd eat and the more frequently she'd eat. It was almost like feeding a 3 day old chick but this chick was 3 weeks old and eating around ½ of a CC each feeding.

I had spent so many days and nights sitting with her, preparing myself for the possibility that she'd be dead by morning. When I finally realized she was going to make it I had trouble accepting it. The thought that she could suddenly get worse again was always lingering in the back of my mind even as her feathers came in and she started looking like a bird. I had invested so much time and energy into this little finch I couldn't lose her.

As the weeks went by she slowly and steadily grew stronger. Before long she was not only looking like a finch but also starting to act like one. She fledged a little later than normal for her species but I expected that. She also weaned a little slower but again I knew she would.

She wasn't given a name until shortly before she fledged. I did this partly because I wasn't sure if she's survive, partly because I didn't know what sex she was, and partly I couldn't come up with a name I liked. For the majority of her young life she was simply "baby bird". The name Ruby was chosen after a short polling of people on various internet mailing lists. Many great names were suggested and Ruby seemed to fit.

Article © Myra Markley 2003