Prompted by this vignette.
Unfortunately, bird rescue never worked for me. When I was nine, I tried to save a baby sparrow that I found. I even called the Bronx Zoo (THE zoo if you live in New York) for tips on how to feed it. When it died I was so devastated that my Dad (OB"M) promised me I could have a parakeet for my tenth birthday if I so wanted one. [Parenting lesson: insist on a cooling off period before pet ownership for a child.] On the day of my birthday (around six months later) I made him take me to the pet store (Erev Shabbos) and we bought Sir Chirpalot. He lived five years and died about a month after my Dad passed away.