Y’all. Really. Apparently saying there’d been a false start to baby season was all it took to open the floodgates. (Thanks a lot, Murphy; now go screw up someone else’s life for a while.) Last week was insane: 16 intakes—almost half the intakes thus far for the month—and it’s not May yet! If they keep comin’ in like this, I’m gonna have birds stacked like cordwood.

Sooo…where to begin? How to approach the insanity that was last week?

Let’s go chronologically.

Sunday’s cat-caught Carolina wren didn’t survive the night; as you know by now, they’re stressy little birds, and even though there were no obvious wounds and he’d been started on antibiotics, it was just more stress than his little system could handle.
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Monday an adult red-phase screech came in—long story short, the finder’d had the bird for SIX days, feeding her NOTHING but putting her outside DURING THE DAY and bringing her in at night, when she could have hunted. She was in baaaad shape when she arrived—on the verge of starvation; huge tick on the corner of one eyelid; refused to open her eyes or even raise her head…Quite frankly, I didn’t expect her to survive the night, especially since she was so weak and lethargic she had to be force-fed.

​Fast forward to yesterday, and just look at this gal now! I’m so proud of her!

Tuesday an adult male brown-headed cowbird came in, the victim of a mocker attack. Mockers are aggressive little snots on their best days; they’re downright vicious when defending a nest, and I’m betting the cowbird’s mate was attempting to lay an egg in the mockers’ nest. As a reminder, cowbirds don’t build nests, incubate their eggs or raise their own young—they lay one egg each in several nests and allow the poor birds whose nests they egg-dump in to raise the young cowbirds, often at the expense of the nest owners’ rightful babies. I call ‘em the welfare birds…

At any rate, while there were no external injuries, apparently they’d done some internal damage, as he struggled to breathe and didn’t survive the night.
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Also on Tuesday, two hatchling screeches came in after the snag (dead tree) their nest was in was cut down. They were only days old at intake—still had their egg teeth. Both fit in the palm of my hand together, not singly. As their little eyes are VERY light sensitive and they must remain in dark/dimly lit areas for the first few weeks of their lives, all the photos of them are without flash, so they’re a bit fuzzy…kinda like the babies themselves!

Here they are on intake, April 23:

​And two days later, April 25:

​Aaand two days after that, April 27:

They’re eating well, and as you can see, their egg teeth have fallen off now, one’s eyes are open and the other’s are starting to open—and I’m already starting to see hints of feather growth beneath that down!
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And also on Tuesday—nine of last week’s intakes were on Tuesday—a cattle egret with a broken wing arrived. Sadly, it was an open fracture, so euthanasia was the kindest option.

​The egret arrived in a “group transport” as a volunteer transporter made two stops on her way to LWR. Her second stop was our next intake, a nestling barred owl. The mammal rehabber he’d been taken to initially thought he had a stick jammed in his eyelid, possibly from his fall from the nest; my intake exam led me to believe it was a scab. But when cleaning and swabbing left it just as hard as before, I decided x-rays were in order. After looking at the x-ray, vet Peggy Hobby of Smalley’s Animal Hospital took a closer look at the eye and realized what had happened is the actual eyelid was damaged and what we were seeing and feeling was the dead tissue where it had hardened after the blood supply had been cut off. It won’t affect his vision or chances for release, though.

​And the last four intakes for Tuesday were Carolina wrens, also with a backstory. In this instance the woman who found them called LWR, saying they were house finches, and then said she’d found someone to bring them, someone who claimed to “work with” me. What she’d done was take them to a pet store, where the clerk—who did NOT know me nor work with me—decided he’d take the birds home to raise himself. Y’all know what a mistake that was…when I found out, I called the game warden for that area, and I also called the pet store to inform them that DNR was now involved. Shortly afterward the chastened clerk delivered the birds to LWR. And they were, of course, the stress-death champions of the songbird world, Carolina wrens…

Surprisingly, three of the four are doing well; the fourth died this morning.

Wednesday, nothing came in, which was fine by me after nine intakes on Tuesday.
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Thursday morning, a fledgling phoebe with a nasty open leg fracture came in. It’s hard enough sometimes to euthanize adult birds; the babies REALLY hurt, so even though I knew what needed to be done, I wanted a second opinion. I texted a photo of the leg to Peggy, who agreed it wasn’t fixable. Phoebes are sweet little birds, and I was reduced to tears over this one, but he was euthanized. The photos of his leg were taken post-euthanasia.

​Thursday evening, an adult belted kingfisher with a wing fracture came in; x-rays Friday showed it was right in the shoulder, but it wasn’t badly displaced. Joint fractures usually freeze the joint when they heal, but Peggy and I agreed it was worth giving the bird some time to see how things played out.

​Thursday night, a cat-caught nestling brown thrasher came in. His rescuer heard him on her porch after dark and when she opened the door to see where the chirping was coming from, her cat rolled the bird. Since she was standing right there, the rescuer was able to shoo the cat away before he inflicted any wounds. Still, cat saliva is toxic to wildlife AND she didn’t know where his nest was, so he arrived late Thursday night and is on antibiotics and doing well. Except when I have to move him to change his “nest” paper, at which point he shrieks like I'm killing him...

​Nothing came in Friday, either, but there were two intakes for Saturday.  Midday, a nestling great horned owl came in. His rescuer saw two stray dogs corner him and intervened before he could be hurt. He’s not a happy camper but should be fine.

​And late yesterday, this little probable chipping sparrow came in after being found on the ground. He’s still on heat, of course, and it’s too soon to say for certain, but his chances seem good.

In “older” guests at LWR, the great horned in the raptor flight is really skillful at flying and perching; now she needs to pass her live prey test.  The first and second red-phase screeches need to be in the raptor flight to see if those healed wing fractures will allow for flight, but since raptors don’t pay well together, they can’t go in with the great horned. THAT is not the sort of live prey test I want!

The adult barred and great horned both also need to be in the raptor flight, again, to see if their healed wing fractures will allow for flight.

The house finch and cedar waxwing were released. To be honest, the waxwing was iffy based on x-rays, but when the rascal started getting loose and leading me on a merry chase all around the house every time I put his berries in or changed his paper, I decided he was ready to go.
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The vultures are feathering out nicely and self-feeding now, which is nice. Messy, but nice…

​So at the moment, LWR has ten—count ‘em, TEN—owls of various species (which of Georgia’s native owls am I missing, people? You should know this!); two vultures, three Carolina wrens, a brown thrasher, and a probable chipping sparrow…and the owls and vultures are eatin’ me out of house and home…and May, traditionally “hell month,” hasn’t even started yet…

After a sudden influx of babies the previous week, last week saw…almost nothing—at least, not babies.

First, the bad news—both sets of nestlings, the probable chipping sparrows and the Carolina wrens died, one set on Monday night, the second on Tuesday night. Both sets were alert, healthy, gaping and eating well, poop was normal…who knows? I expected the Caros to be problematic, as they’d been cat-attacked, but they were on meds, even though there were no obvious wounds. The probable chippers took me by surprise; I really thought they were doing well—and they were…until they weren’t, overnight.
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Early in the week, a grounded loon came in, found in the parking lot of the local hospital. It had rained the previous night, so he probably mistook the rain-wet parking lot for a body of water and crash-landed. Loons are designed strictly for the water or the air; their legs are set too far back on their bodies for them to walk on land. If they end up on land, as in a crash-landing of this sort, they use their wings to drag themselves along the ground. Luckily, this fellow didn’t even have road rash and was releasable the same day.

​However, the adult male downy woodpecker who came in after being found by the roadside wasn’t as lucky. His head was twisted at a godawful angle, called wry neck or stargazing, and I suspected it wasn’t treatable. He’d probably been sideswiped by a car; his finder said it was a residential area of town so the cars were moving slowly, but the right angle of impact, even on a slow-moving vehicle, can cause terminal damage to a small bird like a downy. He was started on a mild anti-inflammatory to see if it would help, but he died within hours of intake.

​Yesterday a young adult mourning dove came in after hitting a window the previous evening. The finder had let her sit in a box overnight to see if she was just stunned, but she was still groggy that morning. Another 24 hours of rest at LWR and she was rarin’ to go. No videos of the release; she didn’t give me time before she hauled butt!

And today, a cat-caught Carolina wren fledgling came in. There are no obvious injuries—no broken bones, no puncture wounds—but the poor bird is stressed to the max. He’s been started on meds but honestly, as stressed as he is, I’m not optimistic about his chances.

​The house finch is perching and actually flying quite well, as a couple of escapes in the house have proven, but she’s not self-feeding yet. She’s started to show an interest in the food in her crate, though, so she should be ready for the songbird flight sometime this week.

The cedar waxwing, while eating every berry offered, shows a decided preference for raspberries—go figure. I’ve actually never tried them on raspberries before, usually sticking to blueberries, blackberries and the like. No new photos of him this week, as he’s apt to try and flutter out of his crate—not good for a bird recovering from a wing fracture.
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The two screeches are…well, not meaning to be punny, but they’re a hoot. Big gal seems to think it’s her job to protect the smaller male, so this is what I see when I check on them:

​The female great horned is flying well and uber-aggressive; she just needs to pass the live prey test and she’ll be ready to go soon!

The two adult owls, the great horned and barred, are antsy but not quite flight pen-ready.
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The vultures are beginning to show lots of black under that down, and their wings are pinning out nicely. They’re also greedy little rascals—with crops almost bigger than their heads (meaning full), they’ll still growl and demand food that they then drop in the box and snack on later.

“Official” baby season, that is: the first nestling songbirds arrived last week, possible chipping sparrows, two Carolina wrens and a house finch.
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The possible chipping sparrows—I know I should recognize these babies, but I just can’t quite place the species—were found on the ground and the finders couldn’t locate the nest. One of the wee ones has a badly broken leg. At this age the bones are still fairly pliable and should heal quickly, but to be honest, it’s not likely to heal for proper function.

So why haven’t I euthanized? Simple logistics: his sib will fare better with a buddy.  Once they’re fully feathered and the sib doesn’t need a buddy quite as much, I’ll take the necessary action. And maybe I’ll be proven wrong and the leg will be functional. That would be wonderful; I’d be delighted to be wrong about his chances.

The Carolina wrens were taken from a cat’s mouth Friday. The rescuer had an uncommon amount of common sense for such a young person. Since he’s a student at UGA, he took the Caros to their wildlife clinic, where he was told since they had no apparent injuries, they wouldn’t take them. He argued that they needed antibiotics after being in the cat’s mouth—see? I told you he had an uncommon amount of common sense—and UGA Wildlife Clinic informed him they were too small for antibiotics. Ooookaaay, following that line of logic, a newborn human baby with an infection can’t be treated either, right? I mean, it’s too small…
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Anyway, the poor fellow then contacted a bird rehabber in a neighboring county, who wasn’t taking anything at all—right at the start of baby season, no less. And of the other people he called, I was the only one to call him back so the determined young man drove from Clarke County to Laurens County, a four-hour round trip, to give the Caros the best chance possible at survival, with the babies on heat and stopping every 45 minutes to feed them. (And don’t EVEN get me started on rehabbers who don’t return calls; there may be health or personal reasons for not taking in any birds, but it doesn’t take that much damn effort to create a voicemail message to that effect or call or text the person seeking help for wildlife and at least let them know you’re not taking anything at the moment. That’s just common courtesy.)

At any rate, the Caros are at LWR now, they’ve been started on antibiotics—yes, even tiny hatchlings CAN be properly medicated—and we’ll see how they fare; Caros are, as you may recall, notoriously stressy little birds. And the young man deserves recognition for going above and beyond. With that sort of determination and perseverance, I suspect he’ll go far in life.

Next up was a near-fledgling house finch. The person who contacted LWR about her (random gender assignment, as juvies for this species all resemble adult females) said the nest had inadvertently been destroyed during some sort of community clean-up day. Aside from being VERY hungry on intake, the sweet bird is fine. If you’ve never heard a house finch, pull up their species account and listen to that sweet, sweet voice. They’re actually native to the Western US and were brought illegally to the Eastern US to be sold as pets during the 1940s; to avoid prosecution under the MBTA, pet stores on Long Island, New York having  the contraband birds just turned them loose and as they’re birds who co-exist well in close proximity to humans, they quickly populated the East, as well, by the 1990s. They’re the birds you’ll frequently find in messy nests in your potted or hanging plants on your porch, and they are native to the US…just not originally the Eastern US!

​An adult cedar waxwing was found in the street in a city a few counties away, and when the finder called LWR, I suggested they give the bird a couple of hours to see if he was drunk (waxwings will eat fermented fruit until they’re literally too drunk to fly) or just stunned. When, after a couple of hours, he proved unable to fly at all, she brought him to LWR. His right wing was very swollen, so much so that I honestly expected the wing to be shattered. X-rays at Smalley’s the next day confirmed a break, but it looks as if it might heal for flight, so he’ll be a guest at LWR for a while as the wing heals.

​The vultures are growing like weeds; they’re in their third box in under two weeks. You can’t see it well in the photos yet but they’re getting little pin feathers on those stubby wings.

​The juvie great horned in the raptor flight finally decided to eat; she still hops off her perch to give me a gorgeous threat display when I walk in to drop off her food for the night.

​Both screeches went in for follow-up x-rays Monday. Screech 1’s elbow fracture is healing nicely; although Screech 2’s original x-rays were clear, the swelling at his elbow worried me, and sure enough, the follow-ups showed a fracture. The joint may’ve been weakened when he was sucked into the truck window, and subsequent flapping around, even in a confined space, led to a fracture. At any rate, despite these being joint fractures, both birds seem able to fully extend their injured wings, so we’re cautiously optimistic for eventual release.

​The adult great horned also had follow-up x-rays; vet Peggy Hobby at Smalley’s said to give him another couple of weeks on cage rest, then go ahead and place him in the raptor flight with the juvie gal and see how he behaves.

​The barred owl had his second follow-up x-rays and although the healing fractures look godawful, he can fully extend both wings and flap the injured one quite powerfully. He’s also on cage rest for another couple of weeks or until the great horneds are released, whichever comes first. We’ve hit that time of year when the raptor flight mimics a Depression-era flophouse, with scarcely a pause between occupants.

​And finally, x-rays of the osprey carcass showed he had indeed been shot. There was no sign of calcification on the radius fracture; that, coupled with the wrist still bleeding when he came in, leads me to believe he was shot pretty recently before he was brought to LWR. So the injuries alone can’t really explain his emaciation and quick death. I suspect he was already compromised in some way and the pellet wounds just hastened the inevitable through shock and blood loss. It’s doubtful we’ll ever know, though, as it appears that since he was shot, DNR will forego the necropsy and make their case based on the pellets lodged in the wings. Since shooting a raptor is illegal, this was reported to both DNR and FWS. Both agencies were provided copies of the x-rays, and DNR picked up the carcass for their investigation.

Last week was…interesting, to say the least. I’m not even sure where to begin…
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Let’s start with the comedy: two downy black vultures were rescued from an imminent dog attack midweek, so their new home is LWR. It’s been a looooong time since LWR has seen any baby vultures. I’d forgotten what utter clowns they can be—and these two are most definitely adorable little stinkers, in the most literal sense of the word “stink”!

​Also, on Friday DNR delivered a banded osprey. When I traced the band number, the bird turned out to be 20 years old, originally banded in New Jersey in 1999! He was emaciated and lethargic on intake, and had a wound on his left wrist that both the DNR wildlife tech and I thought looked suspicious. Add to that the fact that the people who reported the bird to DNR as downed in a field seemed very cagey, and the stage was set for possible illegal activity. 

Unfortunately, the poor old man succumbed to illness, injury, or just old age—or maybe a combo of the three—overnight. I’m still planning to get x-rays of the carcass Monday before turning the bird back over to DNR Tuesday, as they want to send it to UGA for a necropsy. We’re all, like the Elephant’s Child, ‘satiably curious about what actually led to this bird’s death after he’d survived 20 years.
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He’d be both the tragedy and mystery in the headline…

The young great horned is in the raptor flight. Owls have to be the most frustrating birds in the world when the young ones are first placed in the flights. It’s like in their dim little minds, they think, Oh, this isn’t my box; I can’t eat here, and they basically go on a hunger strike for several days. Our young female Einstein (HEAVY sarcasm there; owls are many things but bright ain’t one of ‘em) is still refusing to touch her mice…

Several birds are due for follow-up x-rays next week: Screech 1, the barred and the adult great horned. The plan at the moment is to take them in Monday when we x-ray the osprey carcass.
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And that about does it for this week—like you needed anything else after seeing those baby black vultures, right?!