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Rehabbers are people too

5/27/2018

6 Comments

 
​This will be more of a rant than an update, for reasons I’ll get to shortly. First, thanks to those who expressed concern about the family emergency last week. My father is on hospice at home; I have 40 birds and four flying squirrels in my care, and I’m surviving on less than two hours’ sleep a night as I deal with Daddy’s declining situation, the birds, the constant calls about birds, and editing so I can keep the bills paid. It’s a hellish, stressful environment right now.
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That said, when a call came in this afternoon and the caller left a voicemail, the last thing I needed was the message this rude person left, which you can hear for yourself below. 
My response is how dare you? How DARE you leave me an abusive message and then state you’re going to sit there and watch the bird YOU refuse to bring to me or another rehabber die? What kind of sick and twisted mind operates like that? Do you also enjoy pulling wings off flies and kicking puppies?

Your entitled, bratty, abusive attitude is especially galling in light of the young couple with a months-old infant who skipped church this morning to make the drive from Gainesville, GA—a day trip for them, in effect— to bring me a severely neurologic gosling that they knew from the outset might not make it.  He’s still with us, barely, but it’s honestly not looking good. THESE people have my undying thanks for doing the right thing without hesitation.

And just now a mother and daughter from near the same region called about an unnested robin. I was able to give them emergency care advice and the number for WREN, a volunteer transport network, with the warning that WREN might not have people in their area. At the moment, their plan is to bring me the bird themselves, a six-hour round trip, in the morning if he survives the night. They were tearfully grateful that I returned their call and was “so nice”—apparently they’d been down the very short list of songbird rehabbers for the entire state, and I was the only one to return their call…which leads me to yet another rant, this one addressed to my colleagues.

Look, people, if you want to be treated like a professional, ACT like a professional. If you’re at capacity, change your voicemail message to indicate it so people don’t expect a call back. If you’re out of town—although God only knows how you manage THAT during baby season—indicate this on your voicemail message. Rehabbers struggle enough as it is with a public—and too often, official—image that we’re just eccentric do-gooders who like “playing” with animals. That image will never change as long as we as rehabbers don’t act like the trained professionals we’re supposed to be. This ain’t rocket science, people; it’s just basic common sense.

And now let me explain a few things to the unenlightened among you. First, rehabbers DO NOT receive state or federal funding for our efforts. Most of us have JOBS that do not allow us to traverse the state to pick up wildlife. If a rehabber is running all over the state to pick up wildlife, the wildlife in his/her care is left to fend for itself until s/he returns. In the case of birds that require half-hourly feedings, that means missing multiple feedings if the pickup is several hours away. This endangers the health and survival of those birds. Further, the money spent on gas could be better used to feed the wildlife currently under care, as funds are always limited.

In my situation, as apparently the only licensed songbird rehabber in the state still accepting birds, it is physically impossible for me to drive all across the state to pick up birds. I cannot load up 40 birds and take them with me; I have a paying job to maintain; and, as stated above, currently, I have a family crisis situation with my father. I’m also one of the few raptor rehabbers in the state still accepting birds—same scenario.

To be clear, I don’t do this for public acclaim, and I normally let abusive bitches like this one roll off my back. But this one today, on top of the family situation, was just one bit of abuse too much, and I needed to vent my frustration and let you hear just what those of us who VOLUNTEER our time and money have to put up with.

There are, fortunately, more decent people out there than there are jackasses, but the jackasses are the ones that leave rehabbers questioning whether their efforts are worth the abuse. Most of us tough it out, but I want y’all be aware of what we put up with and why we get so snarky.

Ranting done, we’ll move on to an abbreviated update, as I honestly don’t have a whole lot of time and energy at the moment.
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Briefly, on the older birds, the barred trio is still in the raptor flight because IT WON’T STOP RAINING. They’ve passed the live prey test if the rain ever stops. Once they’re out the great horned goes in, followed in short order—I hope—by the remaining two barreds, and then all five—yes, FIVE, barnies. More barnies came in week before last.
​Then the screech should be old enough to go in the raptor flight.
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I literally have owls stacked like cordwood right now. It’s not an ideal situation for them or me, but we’re all making do and hoping for a break in the weather soon…

The neurologic blue jay remained unable to stand properly—severe balance issues—and I ended up having to euthanize him. The poor titmouse also remained unable to fly and required euthanasia.

Three of the four killdeer died or declined so rapidly that they required euthanasia. It’s incredibly frustrating to have four birds in the same enclosure eating the same food, and find one dead and then watch two more decline to the point that you just have to end their suffering, while the fourth flourishes and you have no clue why on any of it.

There were a lot of DOAs week before last, so the missed update would’ve been pretty depressing: a blue jay, a brown thrasher, a house finch, three of a nest of four really ratty-looking blue jays, one of two red-bellied woodpeckers, a robin, and an unidentified hatchling.

Last week, another thrasher came in and while I’m giving him time, he’s probably going to end up requiring euthanasia. His wing was pretty trashed as far as soft tissue; no broken bones.
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Four what looked to be mocker hatchlings came in and didn’t survive 24 hours, poor babies, nor did a sweet phoebe who nearly drowned in the constant downpours we’ve been having. Her rescuers got her to me ASAP and she perked up a bit with meds, but died overnight.
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Two more blue jays came in, from different nests, and are doing well.
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A Laurens County Sheriff’s Deputy called midweek about a hawk found in the road in front of his house. Based on his description, it sounded as if the bird had probably just been stunned but I asked him to let me examine it before I okayed a release. He was in fact good to go, and Deputy Sid Harrison sent me the short release video below.
​All the bluebirds ended up back in the songbird flight because of the rain—the beauty of a soft release; I can snag ‘em and bring ‘em to safety if I see they’re struggling. They’re sharing the songbird flight with the snake-survivor bluebird, five mockers, a brown thrasher and three house finches. All these birds are good to go if it ever stops raining.
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​And the flyers are approaching their release date, as well.
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​Sorry this is so abbreviated, “ranty”, short on photos and video, and disjointed.  Kinda the state of my life at the moment, though—at least the “ranty” and disjointed parts…
6 Comments

No update this week

5/20/2018

2 Comments

 
I'm sorry, y'all. We have a family crisis to deal with, and there's just no way I can manage it, keep the birds fed, and update the blog too. 
2 Comments

Hectic week, part the second

5/13/2018

4 Comments

 
Good Lord, I don’t even know where to start…

Last Sunday a Carolina wren fledgling and a nestling barn owl came in. The Caro didn’t survive the night, sadly; the barnie had me worried, as he had maggot eggs in one nostril and I wasn’t sure I’d cleaned them all out—plus he didn’t want to eat, at all. I had to literally force-feed him. Luckily, I did get all the maggot eggs and after a few days of being force-fed he decided taking the proffered food from the forceps was much less stressful.  The first photo below is him on day of intake; the second is today. Today’s pic isn’t that great, but he’s moved into the hissy stage and even a barnie hiss is…ummm…not pleasant to the ears, so I sort of guerilla-snapped that photo!
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​Monday a cat-attacked grackle came in but didn’t survive the day, despite immediate medication on intake.
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​Tuesday a nestling bluebird came in, the sole survivor of a snake raid on the nest.
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​Wednesday, an adult female bluebird came in, along with a nestling red shouldered hawk. The bluebird favored her left wing, which was swollen, but x-rays showed no fractures. You can clearly see the swollen tissue, though. No photos of her because she’s a little escape artist!
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​The red shoulder had a broken leg. Because the mammal rehabber who transferred him to me had said the break was mid-bone, we were all hopeful it could be fixed, but x-rays indicated otherwise. It was indeed mid-bone but so badly displaced that vet Peggy Hobby, vet tech Autumn Parker and I all simultaneously moaned in dismay at the x-ray. We sounded like some sort of Greek chorus…
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​Thursday,  a nestling grackle came in, THREE DAYS after being found and fed a crap Internet diet. His finders were “worried” about him on day three, as he didn’t seem as “chipper.” Yeah, three days of crap in your system when you’re a growing bird will do that. He also showed signs of respiratory distress, so I started meds immediately, but he died overnight. 
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​An adult barred owl with an open wing fracture also came in Thursday; there was nothing to be done for him except end his suffering.
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 And a Thursday morning caller said they’d taken a “baby bird with a blue tail” from their cat. Its wing was RIPPED OFF, and could they keep it as a pet? I kid you not. This conversation continued until I thought I was gonna have to call the game warden but I finally convinced these people to get the bird, a fledgling bluebird, to Smalley’s, where I was having the female bluebird and nestling red shoulder x-rayed.
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The right wing was indeed ripped off, and the left wing was mauled underneath. The poor baby was dying from shock and blood loss anyway but we euthanized to end his misery. Peggy and I both adore bluebirds, so that made this particular euthanasia even worse, despite it being the right thing to do. The wing photos below were taken post-euthanasia.
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​Friday an adult cedar waxwing came in with only a slight droop to his left wing, indicative of a coracoid fracture. He was alert and well-fleshed, so I figured a little time to heal and he’d be good to go. He was dead the next morning. No clue as to why, unless he’d gotten into pesticides or insecticides.
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​Another fledgling brown thrasher came in, as well, after one parent was hit by car and died. The finders tried to put the bird back in the bushes but he kept hopping out into the road, so it was deemed safer for him to send him to LWR.
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​This poor little nestling blue jay had serious head trauma and neurological issues on intake. He was found on the ground in an apartment complex. He kept flipping onto his back and twisting his neck so that it looked like he had wry neck (a condition where the bird’s head is flipped upside down). I honestly didn’t have high hopes for him but refused to give up without a fight. 
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​By Saturday, he was at least positioning himself properly in the nest most of the time, although his head still tended to twist a bit.
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​Today, he was sitting upright and begging for food like a proper little jay. He still has some tremors but things look much more hopeful for him than three days ago!
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​Also on Friday, a couple called and said a tree surgeon had cut down a hollow oak on their property and discovered, too late, a nest of owls. It’s my understanding that tree surgeons are supposed to be trained to LOOK for things like owl and songbird nests, but we all know profit comes first, right? I explained how to recover the owls and get them to LWR, expecting two more barreds, but noooo, they showed up with two half-grown, hissy barnies!
​And yet another adult barred owl came in Friday, also. He was concussed out of his gourd, to the point that Saturday morning I honestly thought he’d died during the night. He’s still a bit loopy but improving.
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​Rounding out the week a second nestling red shoulder came in Saturday with his left lower eyelid ripped loose. The tissue still looked fairly healthy, so colleagues Steve Hicks and Kathryn Dudeck and I discussed triage until he could get to Smalley’s Monday. However, he died overnight, after throwing up everything he’d eaten. There was also a sharp chemical smell, so I suspect his ripped lower eyelid was the least of his worries; his parents had probably fed their babies rodenticide-laced mice. I hate rodenticides with a passion…
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​The five bluebirds and five finches, after time in the songbird flight, were released. The bluebirds tend to come down for supplemental feedings singly; the finches en masse.
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​The mockers are now in the songbird flight.
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​The titmouse and “older” (last week’s) brown thrasher are indicating today that they’re ready for the songbird flight, but I’ll hold them a little longer, till the mockers are out. Those mockers would bully my sweet thrasher and titmouse something awful!
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The barreds in the raptor flight are looking good but have a while yet before they’re releasable. The great horned is getting antsy and needs to be in the raptor flight soon. The nestling barred from last week is self-feeding this week, and the flyers are slated for release in June.
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The killdeer are adorable and growing like weeds.
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​And hopefully that’s got everybody updated. I think. Maybe…
4 Comments

Hectic doesn’t even come close

5/6/2018

2 Comments

 
May decided to enter with a mushroom cloud-sized “I’m heee—eeere!” Including the babies that arrived today, in just the first six days of this month, LWR has had 20 intakes. Yeah--20. That’s already almost half the total intakes for April. Remember, I did say if April was any indication…

I don’t even know where to start, aside from warning you there will be a good bit of ranting going on this update. Pull up a soapbox and have a seat.
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Lord, I dunno; let’s start with the “older” guests. The adult GHO did require euthanasia; the barred trio is now in the raptor flight, where they sit and look…ummm…less than intelligent all day. Cute but not smart. At least they’re eating, though, right?
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​The phoebes were released after a few days in the songbird flight and didn’t hang around any longer than the nuthatches.
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​The Carolina wren refused to leave and ended up hanging out with the bluebirds when they moved into the songbird flight. By the end of this week, they might be releasable.
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​The brancher GHO is quite happy in his new digs but would prefer to be in the raptor flight. I may end up switching him and the barreds back and forth so they all get flight time.
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​The flyers are, of course, adorable and gearing up for release next month.
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​Early in the week, a cat-attacked chuck-will’s-widow arrived, TWO DAYS after being found. Despite immediate meds on intake, it was too late; the poor bird died overnight.
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​Then a cat-caught cardinal came in. He had two ruptured air sacs, neither in a life-threatening location, but despite being started on antibiotics immediately upon arrival, he died overnight. His finder was livid, as it was a stray cat wandering through her yard who caught the poor baby. I suggested a humane trap and taking the cat to the local shelter once it was caught.
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People, once again, CATS BELONG INDOORS.
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Next, a  juvenile pileated woodpecker was rescued from dogs. He was a self-feeding juvie who wanted very little to do with humans, so after a couple of days’ observation, he was released and hightailed it away from me as fast as he could.
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​The very next day, five late nestling house finches came in, dumped at a vet clinic in a nearby county and delivered to LWR by a volunteer transporter. Finches are such sweet, exasperating little birds, as they’re content to remain in the nest forever. These babies are fledge-age now and still sitting in the nest, even though I’ve moved them into a larger enclosure with a perch. “Us, perch? Naaah…”
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​Shortly afterward, an early fledgling brown thrasher was found in the road; his finders thought perhaps his wing was broken, and his left underwing was a bit irritated but not broken. No, his issue is a weak left leg/foot, probably as a result of a nest injury. He can use it; it’s just weak and probably always will be. But it’s much improved over intake—he’s now perching a bit and walking around.  Promising progress!
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​And this adorable little fledgling titmouse came in after over two days of crap diet. I won’t even list the stuff in the so-called “diet”, as I don’t want to give anyone any bright ideas. Suffice it to say his finder was able to Google a crap diet immediately but took three days to decide to look for a rehabber. The poor bird was near comatose when he came in, and I really didn’t have high hopes, but he seems much improved. Look, people, just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t mean it’s true, accurate, or an appropriate diet for wildlife. GET THE BIRDS TO A LICENSED REHABBER ASAP.
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​DNR brought two barred owls this week, a runt brancher and a HBC (hit by car) adult. The brancher is still not self-feeding and is so much smaller than the brancher trio in the raptor flight that I’m keeping him inside for a while yet.
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​The adult had an open wing fracture and required euthanasia.
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Yesterday someone posted on one of those cesspool Facebook pages—you know the ones I’m talking about; they’re either honest-to-God unadulterated gossip sites or they’re supposedly yard sale-type sites; either way, they’re sites where people gather to show their ignorance. In this case, the poster had four pre-fledgling mockers that she was asking care advice for and getting the world’s worst advice, including feeding them MILK. Folks...BIRDS DON’T HAVE BOOBS. Got it? Have you EVER seen a bird nursing its young? If you have, get pix and video, ‘cause you’re about to be a very rich person once you sell the rights to THAT story.

Luckily, someone with some sense actually monitors these pages and alerted me, providing the contact info for the mocker person. After some hemming and hawing and false starts and nearly the threat of turning the matter over to DNR, a volunteer transporter was finally able to get the birds to LWR.
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And bear with me now as I well and truly hop on my soapbox on these next birds. A “science educator” (the person’s term, NOT mine) who knew ol’ so-and-so at a local college and “worked closely” with DNR on conservation education supposedly saw a mother killdeer killed about TWO WEEKS ago. (Now, in my experience, when you start tossing out the names of all the “important” people you know or organizations you’ve “worked with” it’s usually because you know you’ve screwed up and you’re trying to lend some legitimacy to your screw-up.) This person then took the eggs from the nest, incubated them, hatched them, and THEN decided to look for a rehabber—not so much to do the right thing for the birds as to get feeding advice, which, as you well know, I do NOT provide, aside from emergency measures until the bird(s) can be taken to me or another rehabber. I explained the legal issues, provided an emergency care plan and expected to hear from the individual the next morning. Nope.

So I texted to ask what the status was. The person called, took a deep breath and launched into ALL the reasons they couldn’t bring the birds. I finally had to just interrupt and point-blank state that if I didn’t have the birds by end of day, I was turning the matter over to DNR. Then the individual tried to guilt trip ME, moaning about how they were trying to do the right thing. Sorry, that particular bird don’t fly with this rehabber.
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I then reminded the person of the contact info I’d given them for WREN (Wildlife Resources Education Network), a group that coordinates volunteer transporters, and told the person to call them, which I’d advised the previous day.  Liz with WREN then called me a bit later, as frustrated and exasperated as I was, only this individual had outright admitted to her that they wanted to keep the killdeer because they’d make a great “educational project” for the person’s children (unclear if this was students or offspring or both).  I was livid. First off, these are LIVING CREATURES  who need proper rearing, NOT a damn science experiment. Second, what “educational” experience can one provide when one is blatantly breaking the law? “Children, the laws only apply to OTHER people, and we only obey those we want to”?

Between Liz and me and the threat of state and/or federal action—because I did contact DNR to see if the wildlife tech in the area could confiscate the birds—we managed to convince the person to meet a volunteer this morning. When she and her husband brought me the killdeer, she also expressed her frustration at dealing with this individual, and laughed as she told me I was not on this person’s list of favorite people right now.

Folks, let’s get one thing clear: I DON’T CARE if people aren’t happy with me. I wasn’t put on this earth to please people. Life ain’t a popularity contest; it’s not about how many “likes” and “attagirls” and “oh, you’re such a good persons” you can get on Facebook or Twitter or wherever.  What I DO care about is the fate of wild birds in the hands of people who think because they have a little education (I have a PhD, and I’m WELL aware of the extent of my ignorance) or can Google disastrously wrong info, they know how to care for the birds. GET THE BIRDS TO A LICENSED REHABBER ASAP!!! We don’t do this because it’s “fun” or “neat” or an “educational” experience; it’s damn hard, soul-sucking, heartbreaking, all-consuming work. We do it because we care about our native wildlife and we want to try to compensate in some small way for the wholesale destruction of wildlife habitats that humans cause daily—and to give the wildlife in our care a second chance at living the life God intended it to have. The “rewards” we seek aren’t public adulation; we want to see the wildlife in our care successfully released back into the wild. When injuries or illness preclude that possibility, we can at least make sure its end is humane and quick.

*deep breath*  Rant over.

The killdeer were not in an optimal setup; they were being fed only periodically when they’re self-feeding from hatching and need constant access to food 24/7, etc., etc. So far they seem to’ve adjusted nicely to a proper setup; hopefully the stress of their first few days won’t cause any long-term problems.
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​And late this afternoon this dog-attacked Carolina wren came in. To this guy’s credit, he and his son chased down the dog, took the bird and, after looking up short-term care options, contacted LWR and made arrangements to get the bird here ASAP. He did admit to asking his local pet store’s clerk what food to use, and they sold him hand-feeding formula for exotics that CLEARLY states it’s not for use with wild birds, which he noticed and commented on. As I told him, the pet store clerk isn’t interested in the welfare of the bird; he’s interested in getting you to buy something. The wren’s wing is very swollen and looks like it may be broken; we’ll try for x-rays early next week to see.
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​I’ve been working on this update all day, between feeding birds, and I’m honestly too tired to come up with any pearls of wisdom to end with, just these reminders:
  1. KEEP YOUR CATS INDOORS.
  2. If you find an injured or orphaned bird, CALL A REHABBER IMMEDIATELY. Not after Googling feeding instructions, not after posting on Facebook asking for godawful advice on feeding the bird, not after calling your best bud. IMMEDIATELY.
  3. Don’t ask pet stores for feeding advice for wild birds; they will sell you inappropriate food that clearly states it is NOT to be used for wild birds. See #2.
  4. Don’t toss out the names of all the supposedly influential people you know as justification to break the law. I don’t care who you know or what degrees you (or they) have; if you and they don’t have the proper permits, don’t even consider keeping that bird. I *WILL* get angry and I *WILL* report you, without a moment’s hesitation, as will any other rehabber. We don’t play those games when little lives are at stake.
  5. BIRDS DON’T HAVE BOOBS. Don’t ever feed them milk.
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