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Globe and Mail - May 24, 1979, Thursday - pg.# T.2 - By Donald Grant.
Sanctuary moves into kitchen
When Jack Emery hears strange sounds coming out of the oven, he knows his days of pies, tarts, cakes, rare roast beef and pork, are over for a couple of months.
He knows it's spring and he knows his wife, known professionally as Bernice Inman.
For Mrs. Inman, who's been operating Roy Ivor's bird sanctuary in Mississauga for a decade, uses the oven as an incubator for baby birds and animals, orphaned for various reasons and brought to her by their rescuers.
On these nights it also means that for patient Mr. Emery, supper is around 8 or later.
For yesterday the oven was jammed and its small electric light was warming the tender, tiny bodies 24 hours a day.
If her husband peered through the oven window, he would have seen two baby rabbits, a squirrel that drapes its feet over the rack's edges in a most relaxed position, three baby starlings, a sparrow, a very sick blue jay, mawled by a cat at a bird feeder and I can't remember what else. I'll have to look.
As Mrs. Inman bottle-fed two little raccoons, she admitted my husband doesn't get any food at this time of the year.
Last year it was the same, at least the same inside the oven and she vowed it wouldn't happen again.
But he waited until 8 last night. He's very patient, Mrs. Inman said about her photographer-husband.
She'd had a busy morning yesterday and returned to a couple with an injured pigeon and a mother with two children holding the blue jay.
Mrs. Inman assured the young mother and her children that the blue jay would likely recover.
I've given it a shot of rum . . . it's a sort of tranquillizer. Brandy's the best, but all I have is rum. It brings the heart beat back to normal. The oven light keeps him warm.
Also roaming the house yesterday was Rolly.
He's the biggest baby bird you'll ever see, she said with pride. He's a two-month-old great horned owl. He fell out of a tree and hurt his leg a little.
Incidentally she handled Rolly, named for his weird rolling about like a puppy, with a thick pair of working gloves.
Mrs. Inman also had more birds inside her home such as an African grey parrot brought to her by a Chinese father of three boys.
He speaks a lot of Chinese, said Mrs. Inman, adding with a chuckle but his English is terrible. I mean bad words. We've tried desperately to change some of the phrases.
She admitted those words aren't normally heard in the forest at Mississauga Road and Dundas Street west.
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