Sad to say, most times a wild bird is “rescued”, imprinted on humans and returned to the wild… they just don’t live long. Bird rehabilitators are very, very careful not to allow the birds to imprint on humans because that just tends to make them friendly, loving, human-centered cat treats when they are released.

That was the danger all along with Lele. But she made her choices.

Lele clearly did not want to be a caged bird. In the last couple days I only kept her in her cage at night for safety and she spent all day outside more or less by herself. Even then she hated the cage and as soon as a human – any human not just me – was in sight she’d freak out demanding to be let out. While the cage was the safest place for her with plenty of food and water she would never stay in it if the door was open – even when it was too dark for her to fly safely. We did everything we could but she clearly chose not to be an even partially domesticated bird and we didn’t force the issue.

We did make sure she knew everything she needed to know, though. So she left. Because she could.

It was a bit sad for me that day because its not like she flew up to me and said “Y’know, Dad, I’ve been thinking…” to give me some warning. No, the last time I saw her she and I were hanging out on the lawn couch. I was laying back and she was hopping around on my chest pecking at the buttons on my shirt. After a bit of particularly vigorous button hunting I figured she might be hungry so I took her over to the food at her cage. She hopped right down and started eating. Then I realized it had been a good 45 minutes or so of hanging out with her and I needed to get back to some work… and did as I often did: I slipped back inside while she was busy eating. Otherwise she would frequently want to follow me.

And that was the last time we got to hang out. I went outside about an hour later for a quick break and to check in with her and she was nowhere to be found. I looked in all the usual places then looked all over on the ground for new feathers or signs of violence. Nothing.

It felt like she was just out for an adventure so I wasn’t really worried. I went out every hour or so to see if she’d made it back but she never returned.

I was lucky to catch a glimpse of her on the last trip out for the day. It was getting on towards dark and I was worried that she’d find a safe place to sleep. I looked out across the neighborhood in thought and saw 2 adult looking mynahs and one smaller mynah with a short tail flying towards the edge of the neighborhood. The smaller one was unmistakably Lele: her baby tail feathers were all snapped off a little short because she’d spent so much time hopping around on tables while I was working. She was fine, then, and hanging out with other mynahs. While I was already pretty sure she hadn’t been eaten by a cat that set my mind at ease.

We saw her the next day, too, hanging out with a large group of juvenile mynahs. Apparently all the neighborhood mom and pop mynahs kicked out their kids en masse and Lele went with them. As she should.

So now I have somewhat mixed feelings. On the one hand… I miss her. She was fun to hang out with and I really enjoyed seeing the world through her eyes. On the other its fantastic that she’s a wild bird again. An against-all-odds success story. If she had stayed near us she’d have trouble mating and having a normal life even if she was free to come and go as she pleased. I was lucky have been “dad” to her for that short period of time, to be her anchor as she grew up, and I did it so well that she grew up and no longer needs me.

That’s what good parents do, right?

Part of me wants to wander down to that corner of the neighborhood and go visit her. I’m sure she remembers still and I sort of want to remind her so she doesn’t forget. But the wiser part of me tells me not to. Let her go. Its the best thing for her to be free and to forget her past association with people. She’ll be happier and safer. My role in her adventure appears to be over.

Who knows? Maybe she’ll come back and visit. In any case, we’ve decided not to disassemble the larger cage we built for her. You never know when a precocious fledgling is going to need a foster home for a while.