CLOSE-UP : Winged Sanctuary

Ione MacMasters has gone to the birds. “Nearly all my friends and family think I’m completely insane,” she says with a laugh.

Since 1977, the amateur ornithologist has been caring for winged creatures at her West L. A. home. A former accountant, MacMasters, 73, ministers to dozens of birds at a time. Oh, and her permanent menagerie of two dogs, four cats, three rabbits, three ducks and a one-winged sea gull. A daily parade of strangers--referred by veterinarians and animal societies--delivers doves, mockingbirds, hummingbirds, zebra finches, chimney swifts--even, once, a pelican. “People will say, ‘I have the most exotic bird. I don’t know what it is,’ ” says MacMasters. “And they bring it in, and it’s a little baby chicken.”

It all started when she found a wounded sparrow on her front lawn. She called every group she could think of for advice; by the time the sparrow recovered, MacMasters had a new hobby. Now birds arrive by bicycle, bus, taxi, messenger service, even Federal Express. Once, she says, “This huge fire truck pulled up in front of my house, and these darling little, skinny firemen got off with this little mockingbird, and I was standing there without my Polaroid. I could have died.”

Those bringing birds also donate money, birdseed, cages and the like. After about three weeks of nurturing, the birds are released into the wild. Separation anxiety is an occupational hazard: “I worry at night. Did he get anything to eat? Did he make a friend? I’m like a mother sending her kid to school for the first time.” But, she adds, “They nearly always sing when they go.”