“Official” baby season, that is: the first nestling songbirds arrived last week, possible chipping sparrows, two Carolina wrens and a house finch.
​
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…
​
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…
​
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.
​
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.
​
And that about does it for this week—like you needed anything else after seeing those baby black vultures, right?!