Fredwin was at the Quincy station for two days before anyone reached him. Someone had reported him — tourists who saw a huddled bird and made the call — and GLPR volunteers went looking. The station is busy, the environment is loud and disorienting, and Fredwin was somewhere in it, injured and waiting, with a damaged left foot and a left wing that had been partially torn away. He would not have survived much longer. The volunteers did not stop searching until they found him.
That is the fact at the center of Fredwin’s story: people did not give up on him. Not the tourists who noticed and reported. Not the volunteers who came back a second day. That persistence is what made the difference between Fredwin alive and Fredwin not alive.
He is very much alive. Thriving, actually, which given what he came in with is a word worth emphasizing. The wing, the foot, the two days of exposure and deterioration in a subway station — and yet here he is, standing with the upright, alert posture of a bird who has somewhere to be and opinions about things. He is a genuinely beautiful bird. That deep green iridescence across his head and neck is striking — almost metallic in good light — and the speckled grey and white patterning across his wings gives him the look of something carefully designed. He is, in all the ways that count, still very much here.
Fredwin awaits a home that understands his mobility — the wing and foot situations are permanent, and his setup should account for that — but his foster mom will tell you that he has adapted with the matter-of-fact resilience of a bird who has clearly decided that surviving was the hard part and everything else is manageable.
He was found because people went back a second day. He deserves a forever home that matches that level of love and commitment!
