Bell came into my life on 10th April this year, as a weak and dying baby bird. My dad had spotted him falling from another bird's claws and onto the ground. Not wanting him to die, he brought the baby bird home, hoping that my sister and I would take care of him. The initial stages of feeding were difficult; we couldn't tell what species he was, and what he actually fed on. We later managed to identify him as a Rufous Treepie, a very common bird in the area. However, over the days, he slowly started to recover, and soon became really active. He would stand on his toes, chirp out loudly with his mouth open wide, and flap his tender wings whenever we came to feed him. He was so adorable! On 19th April, something miraculous happened: When I placed him next to a line of moving ants, he slowly turned his attention towards them, and even tried pecking at the ants! His natural instincts seemed to start kicking! I was overjoyed; it seemed to me like the dream I had, of one day letting him fly off into the wild, would come true after all. But alas, the very next day, that dream was shattered. He was gasping for air, and unable to stand when I went to feed him that morning. My sister started crying. How could this have happened! He was so active and healthy the previous day! We held him in our palms for a while, and soon, he closed his eyes and stopped breathing. He was gone. I have no explanation for this; I believe I fed him the right food, and followed all necessary precautions. Maybe he was just destined to die? I mourn over his death, but yet, am glad that I managed to keep him alive for 9 more days. These days with Bell have taught me how to be responsible, and how to sacrifice time that I could have spent out there enjoying.
We had Bell buried in one of our plots. Here's a video I took of him, as my sister cleaned him with a warm, damp cloth.