It was a rather chaotic week, between intakes, vet visits, releases and just plain general “guest” maintenance.
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The great blue heron that was en route last week exhibited neurological symptoms upon arrival, perhaps from lead poisoning or maybe rodenticide. We’ll never know, as the poor bird died overnight, and the one source of necropsies in the state doesn’t provide even one measly free annual necropsy to rehabbers—and quite frankly, I can’t justify the expense of a necropsy to satisfy my own curiosity. That’s money taken from feeding live birds, so the better option seems to me to be to focus on the living. They can be helped; the dead can’t.

​Hot on the heels of the heron came a youngish turkey vulture—the younger birds tend to have less of the fungusy, poxy-looking stuff on their faces. He didn’t seem to have any wing or leg fractures but refused to stand. Turkey vultures are quite shy, though, so I wasn’t sure whether his not standing was due to shyness or actual injury. I had to wait two days to take him in for a vet visit, though, as his finder had apparently fed him half the contents of her refrigerator, based on her list on the intake form—and vultures digest their food veeeeerrrry slowly…and they stress-puke effortlessly. And it stinks. I’d rather smell skunk spray. Really.

​However, once he’d had time to digest his banquet, it was off to Smalley’s for him, where x-rays showed an old .22 pellet and newer birdshot. Most of the birdshot was lodged in his wing feathers; one piece was lodged in the flesh of his leg. When I explained to vet Richie Hatcher that the vulture seemed unwilling or unable to stand but that it could be just his innate shyness, Richie put a towel on the floor, I sat the bird on it, and he stood up and made a beeline for the corner of the room. Given that his injuries were minor and he could obviously walk with no problems, we agreed he was releasable, which I did that very afternoon.

​Along with the vulture release, the two barred owls from last week who were awaiting x-rays on Monday were also released, as their x-rays showed no fractures. 

​Screech 2’s x-rays on Monday also showed no fractures, but he and Screech 1 had to wait until the end of the week for their turn in the raptor flight—had to get the barreds in and out first.

​Once the screeches were in the raptor flight, the goal became to release them both Monday, as we had pretty firm rain predictions for the weekend (it’s raining as I type, in fact).

​The same day the turkey vulture had his vet visit, another barred owl accompanied him. The owl had been spotted in the finder’s workplace yard, where he hopped from the ground to a car hood to a tree branch and back to the ground but didn’t attempt to fly away when the finder approached him. An intake exam showed no fractures, so I really thought he just had a mild concussion. Still, x-rays are always a good idea. The x-rays showed no fractures; the only physical problem we could find was the beginnings of a cataract on his right eye, which vets Richie Hatcher and Jim Hobby both examined. So again, we had a releasable bird, as he was alert, aggressive and had no fractures.  Great! 

So I didn’t even take the boxes containing the vulture and barred owl out of the car when I got home from the clinic; I ran to the raptor flight and loaded up the weekend barreds for their release, excited to have FOUR releases to report this week…
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…And when I opened the cataract barred’s box, he was stone cold. In the 30 minutes it took me to drive home, pick up the other two birds and drive to the release site, he’d died. NOT the outcome any of us expected but internal soft tissue injuries, like a slow bleed, don’t show on x-rays, so it’s not the first time I’ve had a bird die after x-rays showed nothing—and it won’t be the last. It ain’t pleasant but it’s the harsh reality of wildlife rehab.
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Friday a gorgeous first-year male red-tail came in with a left wing fracture, but it’s kinda odd. His wing droops from the shoulder but the fracture feels like it’s in the wrist—and he has a bloody scrape on the back of that wing close to the elbow. Gonna definitely take x-rays to figure this one out!

​And would you believe yet ANOTHER barred owl came in yesterday morning? Nothing initially felt broken, although he does seem to be favoring his left wing today. He did, however, have fresh blood in his right eye on intake; today the bleeding has stopped but the eye is now very cloudy. Obviously, he’ll make the trip with the red-tail to see what x-rays show on both birds.

As for the long-termers, the poor kestrel must think he’s never gonna see the inside of the raptor flight, but as soon as the screeches are out, he’s in. The female red-tail, the red shoulder, and the barred owl all continue to recuperate, as does the crow.
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And the flyers had to be moved to new digs last week, as they finally succeeded in busting out the side of their old pen with their nocturnal shenanigans, resulting in three escapees. It took two nights to reunite the entire group!

While it’s not unusual to have a multitude of songbirds during baby season, they’re small and don’t take up a whole lot of space. No, it’s the raptors who create space issues, and never more so than during the winter, when more adult raptors than normal seem to end up in rehab because of run-ins with vehicles.

And boy, did the owls in particular have a rough week this week…

Early in the week, a red-phase screech owl came in after being found in the road. X-rays and an exam at Smalley’s Animal Hospital confirmed that he had no fractures, just a really bad headache and possibly a bruised wing.

​Later in the week, another screech came in, also a red-phase, also found in the road, and also suffering from a massive concussion.

​And two barred owls also came in, both found in or near the road.

And now you’re asking, “What is it with these birds hunting near roads?” Well, we have sloppy, sorry, trashy humans to thank for that: people toss out their trash—apple cores and food wrappers and such—and rodents feast on the refuse. Wherever rodents cluster, they’ll attract predators. Diurnal raptors, i.e., hawks, are easier to spot but can still be hit by cars as they chase prey across a road or attempt to fly away with struggling prey in their talons. Nocturnal raptors, i.e., owls, are harder to spot, seeming to come from nowhere right into the path of the car in pursuit of their supper.  Honestly, most often in car v. raptor, the raptor loses—in a big way. These four birds were lucky in that all seem to have only concussions. Barred 1 does have some lingering blood in his left eye, consistent with a concussion,  and the other just looks to have a concussion, but they’ll both have vet exams next week, as will Screech 2, to make sure we don’t have luxated lenses or detached retinas; right now, however, all looks promising for all four owls to be released in short order.

As for the “old-timers,” the red-tail, red-shoulder and barred owl recovering from wing fractures are all alert, active and getting close to time for follow-up exams to determine how much, if any, healing has occurred. The crow also continues to do well, and the kestrel’s transfer to the raptor flight was delayed by lingering cold weather this week. Temps are supposed to be more seasonal and moderate next week, so after the screech and barred quartet has been flight-tested (no, not all four at once; barreds will happily EAT screeches!)—and possibly released—the kestrel will take up residence in the raptor flight to regain his strength and, we hope, his flight capability. No new photos of the old-timers this week; I mean, how many different ways can you photograph a bird in a box?

And just a while ago, a call came in about another great blue heron, which is en route as I work on this update—more on him next week.
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The flyers are cute as ever—no photos of them this week; instead, a video of one of the little rascals eating and checking out the camera!

Actually, “not a great week” is a bit of an understatement, to be honest. It was a pretty horrific week.
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The week got off to a bad start when, on Sunday night, an adult male red shoulder came in with an open wing fracture and a shattered leg. This wasn’t an injury that required x-rays, as the bone was clearly exposed and there was no nerve response in the leg, so I ended his suffering that night.

​The kestrel did at least receive good news; his wing has callused nicely and he has “flight clearance” as soon as the weather cooperates. I don’t put kestrels outside in extreme temps and we’re in for another of those weeks, so he’s inside for the next week.

​It was mixed news on the crow. The corneal ulcer has finally healed but the wing fracture, after six weeks, shows no signs of even beginning to callus. Not good. Vet Richie Hatcher at Smalley’s Animal Hospital says they generally give mammals three months before saying it’s a non-union (i.e., non-healing) fracture, so we’re giving the crow the same length of time. But we both know it’s probably not going to heal, not if it’s showing no signs at this point. Still, as Richie likes to say, “You can always euthanize later but once it’s done you can’t take it back.”

​An adult great blue heron came in late in the week, found by the roadside. His right leg felt broken in or near the joint, and x-rays the next day confirmed that the fracture, an old one, had begun to heal, despite the bird’s inability to stand. Given the odd angle of his hock (ankle), which wasn’t broken, vet Jim Hobby and I guessed that he’d been able to stand by putting most of his weight on the good leg for a while and that initial cold snap we had was the final nail in his coffin, poor bird. There was no nerve response in his leg and given the severity of the break and the fact that it had started healing badly, we had no humane option outside euthanasia.

​And, as if all this wasn’t bad enough, the young barnie, who’d been in the flight pen since before Christmas, managed to break his wing right at the shoulder. I’d just been in the raptor flight to put out his food for the night, and he flew to the opposite end while I was doing so. I walked out, latched the door, and was freshening up bird feeders and baths when I heard him scream, not more than five minutes after I’d walked out. He didn’t stop screaming, and it didn’t sound like the normal barnie scream, so I ran back over, and when I opened the flight door, he was thrashing on the ground about midway the pen, screaming nonstop and unable to get up. It was immediately obvious his right wing was broken. I brought him back inside to wait till morning to get x-rays to confirm what I already knew, and during the night, after the pain meds wore off, he began gnawing at his elbow because of the pain. X-rays the next morning confirmed that the break was unfixable; he required euthanasia. The video below was taken when I started to box him up to bring in overnight; you can see the odd angle of the right wing and hear his pain.

My best guess is that he might have had some sort of epileptic-style seizure while flying toward his food, causing him to crash and pin that wing in such a way that it snapped. Given the way he was thrashing about helplessly when I opened the flight door, it seems a logical assumption. And it sucks. There’s just nothing else to be said. It sucks.
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The red-tail, barred owl and red shoulder recovering from wing fractures are all—what is it the hospitals say?—stable, that’s it. They’re eating well and alert.

​And the flyers, of course, are as busy as they can be when the lights go off.

Apparently somebody left the freezer door wide open on the South—indeed, most of the Eastern seaboard—and so with daytime temps in Georgia barely above freezing and nighttime temps in the teens or low twenties for most of the week and even some snow along the Georgia coast, ain't nobody been outside a whole lot this week (yeah, it’s grammatically incorrect, but it’s colloquially dead-on, so there).

The result was no new intakes this week and a lot of worries about how the birds in the wild who aren’t used to these types of sustained frigid temps fared—this is Georgia, after all, and we’re supposed to have a humid subtropical climate, meaning short, mild winters and long, sweltering summers! I know my feeders have been wiped clean morning and evening, so the squirrels and seed-eating birds in/near my yard have been doing nicely, but what about the insectivores and the raptors? Freezing temps mean no insect activity and very little rodent activity, and GHOs have, at the least, eggs in the nest; some may already have babies hatched. 

So there’s not much to report this week. The red-tail, barred owl and red-shoulder recovering from wing fractures are eating well and alert—no new photos this week.
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The kestrel and crow, who were slated for follow-up vet visits this week, didn’t leave the house—I wasn’t dragging anything that wasn’t bleeding from every pore out into the weather we were having. It’s supposed to be warmer this coming week, so they’ll be headed for Smalley’s later in the week.

​The barnie weathered the cold temps nicely in the raptor flight. He’s ready to go flight-wise but I won’t release inexperienced hunters in winter. Ain’t gonna happen, with prey harder to find. Come spring, with more prey activity, his lack of hunting experience won’t be as big a factor.

​The same principle applies to the flyers, as we’ve discussed before—with no food supplies laid in for winter and no shelter located, they’d not fare well with a winter release either, even though technically they’re old enough for release.  

​The goal of wildlife rehab is to return our charges to the wild, yes, but not to dump them out willy-nilly and hope for the best. As rehabbers, we do everything we can to ensure that our releases are as prepared as possible for survival in the wild, and sometimes that means overwintering wildlife that reaches maturity during a period when release would most likely result in death by starvation. Another couple of months and the conditions will be more amenable for release—and, more importantly, survival.