Tails of Topanga #3, Topanga Messenger, November 9, 2003

Early one morning I received a call from a lady with a beautiful southern drawl.  She said she had  two little chicks she had found in the garden and could I come and look after them.  I informed her of the protocol  for dealing with baby birds and said if they were still chirping by the cold of the evening I would come up. I did get the call and the chicks I found were tiny and completely unfeathered lesser gold finches. It was evident that no mother was returning.
     Alice Cassidy was a spry, weathered ninety-six year old. She was tending the tall waving husks of corn out in her garden when I arrived. The garden was a blaze of beautiful vegetables that she tenderly cared for daily, rising at 5.00 a.m. Inside her house I found her well-loved parakeet., Squeegee, a bird  that her niece Robin had found on Topanga Canyon Blvd. His nails were badly needing a trim so I offered. After that, I was accepted as a fellow animal lover and deemed to be okay.
     Alice was born in Lexington, Kentucky on a tobacco farm. As a child she rode eight miles each way to school on a pony. She was around animals all her life and lived in the Post Office tract for some forty five years. I did not realize how unusual it was to be allowed to share the stories of her life as Alice was known to be a very private person.
     She brought me the baby birds cupped a satin handkerchief in her strong leather hands. I promptly put them in a box and promised to keep her posted. Alice called me daily for updates.  Over the weeks, they were fed and cared for, taught how to spread their wings and given a bathroom as a nursery/aviary. I visited Alice's neighborhood for the seeds they would need to survive. If all went well, the ideal plan would be to release them exactly where she had found them.
     The big day arrived. The pair were flitting around the bathroom, ready to go. One was very plump and the other had thinned down from all his practice flying (We had not named them-- a necessary caution in rehab circles!!) So, our little 'Laurel and Hardy' were off to the wild blue yonder with a little help from us and ,of course, Alice. We gathered at the stables near her home where Alice had found them.  She reached into the box  with those amazing hands and they hopped right up and stayed there!!  She was thrilled to see them, grown and feathered with their distinctive yellow chests. She looked up at me and I could see the little girl's face in her smile, the girl that rode her pony eight miles to school and back again. It was a touching moment. 
      Eventually, 'Laurel'  flew confidently into the trees, but Hardy wasn't going anywhere so fast. No sir! He knew where the good free pickins were!!  Laurel's tweets from the tree rang like a "come on come on." But Hardy wasn't going. We then watched in wonder as "Laurel" flew back down from the tree, chirped to 'Hardy", who was still in Alice's hand, and suddenly they took off, into the trees together. A heartwarming success!
     It was with great sadness that I heard of Alice's passing. Even now, when I visit her neighbors' home, I take a walk by her old house and look down to the garden. It’s hard not to picture. Alice amidst  the high corn, clad in her jeans and checked shirt, looking up from her hoe, putting her hand on her hip to offer support to her bent back for a moment, looking at me and waving hello.