Between releases and moving birds from inside caging to the flight pens, it’s just been a topsy-turvy week.
The two red shoulders who were nutting up in the raptor flight were released. One headed straight into a thicket and disappeared; the other headed in the opposite direction and landed just long enough to get his bearings before taking off again, deeper into the woods.
The two red shoulders who were nutting up in the raptor flight were released. One headed straight into a thicket and disappeared; the other headed in the opposite direction and landed just long enough to get his bearings before taking off again, deeper into the woods.
With these two released, the third red shoulder was deemed flight pen ready. He wasn’t so sure about it to begin with but is enjoying his freedom of movement now.
One clutch of red bellied woodpeckers not only headed for the flight pen early last week but has since been released and joined the growing mob of moochers who hang around the “feeding tree.” Woodpeckers, like blue jays, are “slow to independence”—which is just a polite way to say they’ll mooch for as long as you let them.
Other releases include the mourning dove from April—finally—the cardinal, the blue jay, two mockers, and the great crested flycatcher.
The third clutch of red bellies is now in the flight pen, as are the robins and the brown thrasher.
Other releases include the mourning dove from April—finally—the cardinal, the blue jay, two mockers, and the great crested flycatcher.
The third clutch of red bellies is now in the flight pen, as are the robins and the brown thrasher.
The screech continues to grow apace, although he still has eating issues. He’s beginning to bob his little head around as his eyes begin to truly focus.
The Mississippi kite is also growing by leaps and bounds. It’s odd, but as he’s getting in his feathers, he’s remained on the cute side; the poor screech just looks like an under-bed dust bunny. The first two photos below were taken four days apart. Look at the feather growth!
The swifts should be releasable next week. I’d worried because I hadn’t seen the local colony this year and was searching for a new group but it turns out I just wasn’t looking at the right time, as I was distracted near dusk with trying to get everybody settled in for the night. These babies are spending their days in the flight pen and their nights back inside and aren’t especially happy with that arrangement, as they’d prefer I didn’t touch them anymore. We’re beginning to resist after-feeding face cleaning too…
Intakes this week included yet another mocker, who’s already in the flight pen.
This fledgling house finch was found grounded next to his dead siblings after a storm and is nearly ready for the flight pen now. All the other current residents, though, are so much larger than he is that I’ll probably keep him inside a while longer.
A fledgling green heron should weigh considerably more than 101g, which is what this poor guy weighed on intake. He was so close to starvation that he could only manage to keep down one small minnow every half hour, and it had to be force-fed to him. He’s now not only eating seven or eight minnows at a time; he’s lunging for them himself!
Another screech owl arrived last week, as well—a fledgling full of attitude, all bad. But at least he self-feeds. That’s always nice!
Another great crested flycatcher came in also, a late nestling. As is the case with most flycatchers, she’s (gender arbitrarily assigned) a vocal little darling.
And this hatchling came in early last week. I know what it is; do you? (Look below the “bonus” video at the end to find out!)
Ending on a bit of a philosophical note, let me state that wildlife rehab is not an exact science. It’s more an art, although the science end of it has improved drastically since I was first licensed. That being said, there’s still often no rhyme or reason behind which intakes live and which die. For example, two clutches of Carolina wrens come in, approximately the same age. They receive the exact same diet and housing, and one entire clutch dies while the other thrives and is released. Why? Who knows? There may have been factors at play before the birds came in that the finder was unaware of or didn’t want to admit; one clutch may have been too long without food before reaching help; maybe one clutch was exposed to chemicals and the other wasn’t. The list could go on ad infinitum, ad nauseum—and frequently does as rehabbers debate endlessly why they lost those babies but not these. This led me to develop an adage that I think sums up the rehabber’s situation perfectly:
Wildlife rehabbers fly by the seats of their pants and hope like hell their britches don’t rip.
Wildlife rehabbers fly by the seats of their pants and hope like hell their britches don’t rip.
(The mystery hatchling is…a blue jay! Now you understand the origin of the expression “nekkid as a jaybird”!)
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