We found a baby bird on one of our patio chairs yesterday afternoon. It was clearly very young: its eyes still hadn’t even opened. The poor thing had clearly fallen out of a nest in one of the gutters above. I was surprised it survived the fall, and my wife insisted we try to save it. We put it in a box with a heating pad and fed it wet cat food. It managed to survive the night, but died when we were taking it with us to school this morning. Poor Squeaky died young, but I think we finally formed a truce with the birds in the neighborhood.