They mostly had broken wings. She took exquisite care of them, but many of them died. She buried them, but didn't invite us to attend "the funeral". She even took them to the vet.
One bird hadn't yet learned to fly. He wasn't injured. There was no activity at the nest below the tree -- she watched that nest like a hawk, hoping his mother would return. No one came for the bird. My mom concluded that it was possible the mother bird had kicked him out of the nest. I don't know anything about that particular bird behavior.
My mom took great care of him, and taught him to fly so he could return to the wild. He wouldn't leave. His name was Petey, and he sang loudly at 5 a.m. every morning, and woke up the entire household. We kids didn't mind because it was close to the time we'd be awake anyway. Mostly, my mom minded, but she took in stride. The bird had to stay in the cage except for the many times a day mom took him outside. I didn't think of it at the time, but she probably didn't want him using our house as his restroom. She also wanted to protect him from our wire haired fox terrier.
My mom really loved animals. In her later years, there were lots of cats in the neighborhood whose owners let them roam free and didn't spay/neuter them or get them their vaccinations. So, with the owner's permission, she took care of all that, including taking care of the cats as they healed from surgery. It was weird to me that none of the owners were willing to let my mom pay for these things, but handle it themselves.
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