And the pace quickens

Yep, baby season is in full swing now, with ten intakes Saturday alone, nine of them babies from three separate locations, not to mention the intakes from earlier in the week and them what was already here from earlier in the month. (Oh, come on—you’ve never heard anyone use “them what was”?? Common colloquialism in the South!) Busy, busy!

These hatchling robins, not over two days old, were removed by a disreputable freelance construction worker. I had hoped to get the name of his company so I could let Middle Georgia folks know who NOT to use for their construction work, but he apparently isn’t affiliated with a company and the person who rescued the babies after seeing their nest ripped out and dumped didn’t know the man’s name, or I’d shame him individually. It seems Mama Robin had built her nest in a hole in a soffit and rather than waiting a mere two weeks for her to successfully fledge her babies, the jackass tore the nest out and sealed the soffit. There was NO excuse for tearing down this nest; it’s also a violation of federal law to disturb an active nest. However, I have no name to report to the feds. 
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You can see in the close-up photo below that these babies still have egg teeth, the “picks” on the ends of their beaks that help them break through the eggshell as they’re hatching. They were heartbreakingly young, which lowered their chances of doing well in rehab, and they actually died overnight. A nest full of dead babies is NOT a pleasant thing to find first thing in the morning, and it could have been avoided if the jackass pseudo-construction worker had just left the nest where it was for two measly weeks. Honestly, this sort of wanton lack of any shred of human decency makes my blood boil.

​HOWever…there was an unhatched egg in the nest with the hatchlings, and the volunteer transporter who brought them wondered if it might still hatch. We candled it and it seemed “solid”, meaning there was something in there. I cautioned her that the odds were it was an unviable baby, but I slipped the egg in the corner of the heated box with the hatchlings, just in case. When I opened the box to find the dead babies this morning, I also found—to my shock and surprise—that the egg had hatched.  So we have a fifth robin hatchling whose odds of survival aren’t great, but I’m giving it all I’ve got. I want at least ONE of that poor mama’s babies to survive. And I also want the head of that jackass on a platter, but I’d happily settle for this one poor baby surviving.

​Contrast this with the person who drove from Atlanta to Middle Georgia unaware that they had a nest full of Carolina wrens under an old trailer. Upon reaching their destination and discovering the nest, rather than simply tossing a nest full of screaming babies, this person contacted LWR and brought the babies immediately. They’re older and should have a better chance of survival than the robins, though Carolinas are pretty stressy little birds.

​These sweet phoebes were delivered to a local mammal rehabber, who contacted a volunteer transporter who runs between us to get the babies here. We don’t actually know much else about their background. Phoebes are in the flycatcher family, as evidenced by that flat, triangular beak.

​This same mammal rehabber received a nestling brown thrasher from her local animal control, which also came to LWR with the phoebes. Sadly, this sweet little fellow didn’t last 24 hours. He seemed in good shape on intake—no bruises or indications of anything amiss—but died overnight.

​The barred owls have been relocated to a larger space awaiting their turn in the raptor flight; these babies are branchers already—can you believe it?!

​The downy great horned owl is also in a larger box and will be moved into the crate once the barreds are in the raptor flight. He’s close to brancher stage, as well, but not quite there yet. “Brancher” just means they’re moving out of the nest to nearby branches and hopping around. It’s actually at this stage that most young raptors get into trouble and end up in rehab.

​A young female flyer, about the same age as the older two already at LWR, was kept by her finder for over a week, and the finder was reluctant to surrender the poor little girl to LWR but we finally got her here. Folks, flyers are social little darlings and they need to be with other flyers. “Onlies” will do fine physically but emotionally, they need other flyers. Adult flyers form colonies, unlike gray or fox squirrels, who are solitary as adults.

​The person who found this mourning dove tried for two days to feed the poor baby an inappropriate diet, nearly killing the bird in the process. The short video was shot on intake.

​Fortunately, the dove responded to an appropriate diet; I honestly wasn’t so sure he would. He seemed pretty far gone on intake but is self-feeding already and slated for movement to the songbird flight after the nasty weather we have predicted for today and Monday moves through.

​This same person rescued a fledgling brown thrasher from a cat. There were no apparent injuries aside from a few missing secondary wing feathers, but the bird was started on meds anyway. Cat saliva contains a bacteria designed to break down flesh; it is toxic to wildlife. Antibiotics are a must for wildlife attacked by cats. Sadly, the bird didn’t respond to meds and died within 24 hours of intake.

Folks, cats belong INDOORS, not outside where they can wreak havoc on our native wildlife. Help me keep beating that drum until maybe we beat some sense into people’s heads about this.
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Early last week, a lady brought LWR a near-fledgling chickadee that she’d found on her doorstep near dark. The next morning she returned with a sibling she’d heard peeping outside her door around midnight. She didn’t see a cat in either instance, but I started meds just in case. Sadly, neither of the adorable little birds lasted 24 hours; the second one died within an hour of arrival.

​I’m unsure of the specific species of warbler here (warblers confuse the heck outta me), but the couple who brought him were pretty sure he’d hit a door or window and was still stunned. Apparently there were internal injuries, as this was another case of not surviving long after arrival, poor baby.

The adult GHO that was slated for release died the night before his scheduled release. No clue why—none. He was alert; he was eating well and flying well…and then he was dead. Sudden and unexplained deaths are more common among baby birds than adults, but not unheard of in adults.
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The second adult GHO is still not showing any improvement in flight ability, which doesn’t bode well for her future, especially now that space is at a premium around here. With branchers needing to be in the raptor flight, I don’t have the luxury of letting her sit out there for the next several months. I’ll look into transferring her to another raptor rehabber, but this time of year, we’re all pretty much in the same boat when it comes to lack of space.

​This adult mourning dove was found in a back yard and had obviously been cat-attacked. There were deep wounds on the neck and back, and what at first looked like avian pox on the beak turned out to be swollen tissue from what was left of the beak. The bird had been tortured and abandoned by the cat. 

Again, people—say it with me—CATS BELONG INDOORS SO THEY DON’T KILL OUR NATIVE WILDLIFE.
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A young Canada gosling was rescued from a snapping turtle and brought to LWR. His right leg was stripped bare of skin, exposing muscle and tendons. Vet Peggy Hobby and I agreed euthanasia was the kindest option, but the poor fellow checked out on us before we could euthanize. The photo below was taken post-mortem.

The brown thrasher and nuthatches will also head for the songbird flight around Tuesday; they were a bit stubborn about self-feeding but have finally decided that if they want the opportunity to really stretch their wings, they have to feed themselves. Sorry for the not-great photos; these three, especially the nuthatches, are hardly ever still long enough to focus properly!

​In short, it was a hectic week indeed. And keep that poor little hatchling robin in your prayers. I really, REALLY want that poor wee one to survive.