Beakmin's Story

It was late August, 1994. I first spotted her through the window, the swelling of both her eyes was clearly visible even from fifteen feet away, just one of dozens of finches so afflicted I had seen by then. She had been sitting at the bird bath for some time, unwilling or unable to move. Realizing she was an easy target for the cats that sometimes hid in my yard, I decided to try to catch her before they did. 

I approached her from behind and remember having to freeze momentarily when she noticed my approach, even through those glistening, swollen eyes. After about a minute, she shrugged me off and I continued slowly approaching her. Eventually I got close enough to make my try. I waited for her to turn the other way, and when she did, I very gently, but quickly, closed my hands around her. There was a sudden flurry of panic and a raspy cry of protest as she realized she'd been captured. I cupped her against my shirt as I opened the back door and then, slowly closing it from inside, I relaxed, knowing I finally had her safely indoors. But that feeling of relief was soon was lost in shock when I got her into the bathroom and finally got a good look at her. It seems not only were both eyes hugely swollen, but her beak was fractured and pointed in two directions. It was so misaligned that I was astonished she'd been able to eat at all.

My local avian/wildlife vet managed to relieve the symptoms of MG with medications (this was before I learned of the concern over releasing treated finches - they were still researching the cause). Over time the swelling disappeared and she seemed, finally, fully recovered. But before releasing her, there was the matter of her misaligned beak. So, the vet took one of his tools and nipped off the tip of her lower beak, in hopes that she would be less prone to shove food so far away when she went to grasp it. My concern at that point was whether she could still take water with this new configuration. Bird's beaks are like the end of a boat; they dip down and scoop up water with it. But with the tip of her lower beak now gone, I was afraid any water she tried to scoop up would just run right back out before she could swallow it. [In the small photo, taken just before her release, Beakmin's tongue is visible through the hole at the tip of her lower beak.] To my great surprise and relief, I soon found she handled it just find.

So, with some trepidation over her chances for surviving in the wild on her own (her beak was still misaligned and fractured), I took her back out to my yard and let her go. Fearing she would be unable to crack hard sunflower shells with her beak the way it was, however, I promised her I would always make sure there was some preshelled sunflower chips in my feeders to help her out. That apparently made a great deal of difference to her. After 33 months, she still comes by.

That almost didn't happen. When the staff of the SCWDS set up a field lab at nearby Seneca State Park, a few months later, one of their staff mentioned to me that she wished they could study some finches that had been treated. She told me that treated poultry could still spread the disease and they wondered if treated finches also carried MG in this "shedder state." Against every emotion in me, I mentioned that this gnarly beaked finch I had released still came by and I could probably recatch her if needed. However, it must have been evident how much this finch meant to me; the doctor declined, saying they'd obtain some eventually.

I had named this little finch "Beakman" originally, in part over her beak's condition and because I had seen the program "Beakman's World" a few day's earlier and the name was fresh in my mind. But I named her that thinking she was a juvenile male (for some reason). I was wrong. As winter approached and the other juvenile males took on red coloring, she didn't. So I changed the spelling to "Beakmin." Over time she became such a fixture at my feeders that if a day went by without my having seen her, I started to worry.

That feeling worsened as winter approached and the temperatures dropped. I knew she was out there with this open tipped beak, unable to close her beak entirely - and, sure enough, there were nights when it got below -20 degrees with the wind chill. I was worried the soft tissues in her mouth would freeze, exposed to such cold. And yet, somehow, there she was, oblivious to her condition, coming by each day to get some sunflower chips as though the cold made no difference to her whatsoever (well, not quite - in the photo at right, she can be seen perched on one foot, hiding the other to keep it warm).

Spring finally arrived and she had safely endured winter's worst punches. Then one day in April, 1995, I looked out side at my feeders and noticed beside her was a male, singing and dancing up a storm, trying to get her attention.  It must have worked. Within days they were a pair.

Beakmin being courted, April, 1995	Sealing their bond a few days later.	Off together to find a nest site.

I never knew where their nest was, but in a little over a month, I spotted her again at my feeders, this time with a tufted little one in tow, frantically fluttering its wings to be fed. Beakmin was a mommy.

Some time later she once again showed up, this time with two more fledglings behind her - obviously her second brood.

Beakmin and first fledged, "Beaklet"	Beaklet discovers birdseed	Beaklet a few days later, on its own.

Then all too soon it was winter again and with it came one blizzard after another --- and still Beakmin came by almost every day. Again the following spring I saw her with her handsome red-headed mate (that's Mr. Beakman, left). Although this time I did not see her bring fledglings to my feeders herself, I strongly suspect I saw her mate do so. (At right, yet another of their offspring visits my feeders with its parents, from the previous year.) She and he appeared together from time to time during the rest of 1996.

It was in the fall of 1996 that I noticed one day she had lost all but one of her tail feathers - possibly the result of a cat attack (at right, Beakmin's tail is seen growing back a few weeks later).

And it was somewhere along about then that I noticed something about her had changed -- her beak wasn't quite so crooked any more. Somehow she had learned to tuck the tip of her upper beak into the open grove formed by the absence of the tip of her lower beak, forcing it to straighten out over time. By the end of the year, I barely saw any misalignment at all. And while I never did see her crack open sunflower shells, I did see her do that to some softer safflower shells.

Finally this past January 1st, I spotted her outside at the feeders, as though to wish me "Happy New Year." And then everything changed. That very day, a mockingbird had decided all of my feeders were its private stock and relentlessly drove off all of the finches and other small birds trying to visit my feeders - for the entire winter. For months, there were no finches at my feeders at all - and no sign of "Beaks" either, as I had by then been calling her. I hoped- where ever she had gone - that she'd found a new source of food she could handle, wondering if I'd ever see her again. The weather got warmer. March passed, then April - and yet still no sign of her. I had become resigned to the thought that she had finally moved on.

Then finally, May 11th, I looked outside and saw a female finch with something about her beak being different -but only from one side, which she kept refusing to let me get a better look at. From the other side, she looked like a perfectly healthy stranger - like any anonymous female house finch might look. But this finch also looked different - none of the other markings looked like the Beakmin I knew. The coloring was slightly different. The tuft she had below her tail was not there. I couldn't tell. Then at last this finch turned and looked straight at me --- and I could see the tip of her lower beak was missing. And then there was the fracture line on the left side. "It's Beaks!!!"  (At right is a pose similar to the one she greeted me with - however this photo was taken after she lost her tail - note the single tail feather remaining.)

I don't know how much longer she'll continue coming by. Captive exotic pet finches apparently live only five years or so and it is well known captive birds tend to live much longer than those in the wild. If house finches are similar, a long life for a house finch in the wild may only be three or four years. And if that is true, Beakmin has already lived a full and normal life for a house finch. Thinking back to the day I first spotted her at the bird bath, my vet patching her back together as best he could, then my letting her go, I realized she's gone on to lead a normal healthy finch's life right before my eyes: watching her endure two brutal winters with a beak she couldn't close, being courted and taking a mate right outside my window, bringing her young to my feeders to show them where they, too, could find food. She's been an amazing story. I know that day will come when I will realize she hasn't come by in a long time and is probably gone for good. And I will miss her.

 

   

All photos and other content © 1997 James Cook
All Rights Reserved