Wildlife rehab is full of miracles of varying degrees, but each one never ceases to amaze me. It’s always a reminder that rehabbers are just the conduit; the real work comes from the birds themselves.
Remember last week’s older, emaciated, weak red tail who just wouldn’t eat? The one I was sure I’d have to call it on? Yeah, well, after nearly 10 days a switch flipped and he suddenly began eating on his own. Voraciously. And his level of alertness and threat response—his reaction to me opening his box to feed him or change his paper—increased by about a hundred-fold, to normal levels.
Understand, I didn’t do anything except not give up on the bird. He did all the heavy lifting. Now we just get some weight back on him and he should be good for release!
Remember last week’s older, emaciated, weak red tail who just wouldn’t eat? The one I was sure I’d have to call it on? Yeah, well, after nearly 10 days a switch flipped and he suddenly began eating on his own. Voraciously. And his level of alertness and threat response—his reaction to me opening his box to feed him or change his paper—increased by about a hundred-fold, to normal levels.
Understand, I didn’t do anything except not give up on the bird. He did all the heavy lifting. Now we just get some weight back on him and he should be good for release!
The red tail recovering from the ruptured crop, after staging three jailbreaks in the house, is now in the mini-pen and bouncing off the walls. Literally. All day long, with the windows open now that we’re finally getting some cooler weather, I hear the repetitive thud-thud-thud of him trying to figure out how to stage a jailbreak from the mini-pen. Next step is the raptor flight this week, to see how he does, and then release. He’s eating well and eagerly, so appetite and crop function aren’t an issue anymore. That crop has healed beautifully.
The red tail recovering from the broken elbow will move into the mini-pen once the “crop” red tail is in the raptor flight—again, this week, probably early in the week.
Meanwhile, the poor red phase screech, who was doing so well with his recovery, has been moved back inside so the larger birds can have the outside flights. He’s not a happy camper about that. But then, screeches are seldom happy about anything...it’s part of their charm. (And I’m not being facetious there; y’all know how I love my pissy little screeches.) As you can see, he's back to being a blur of threatening motion. I'm just terrified, of course...quaking in my boots...
There will be no update next Sunday, Oct. 31—just a heads-up.
RSS Feed
