While there were only 10 new intakes this week, added to the over 30 already under care, it still equaled an exhausting and nerve-wracking week.
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The week got off to a less-than-stellar start when a rat snake tried to eat one of the younger killdeer. Luckily, I was just down the hall, heard the commotion, and walked in to find a rat snake hanging on the wall with one of my babies in his mouth. I snatched him down to the floor and forced his jaws open so that he dropped the killdeer on the floor. A cursory one-handed exam indicated the poor baby was in shock; a more detailed exam had to wait until the snake was dispatched. I marched him onto my porch, planted my foot in his back and used the porch floor for leverage so I could operate the loppers one-handed—the other hand still had a stranglehold on his neck. Once he was summarily executed, with extreme prejudice, as a colleague likes to say, I gave the killdeer a more detailed exam. He was missing down from his neck and scared witless but otherwise unharmed. Given their high stress levels, however, I worried for the next 24 hours. I’m happy to report he’s doing well almost a week later! His sibs are fine, as well.

​Adding to the general crappiness of the week’s start, a volunteer transporter delivered an adult Mississippi kite whose wing had been sheared completely off. There was absolutely nothing to be done for the poor bird but to euthanize, which I did immediately. The only photo I took was after he was down, of the wing so you could see the damage. Most likely he hit a side view mirror on a car, although whacking a power line just right would also result in the same type of damage.

And people who’d hit an adult mocker with their car and kept it for three days, knowing it had a wing injury, finally decided it needed help when it quit eating and brought it to LWR, asking if we had 100% release rate. I purely snorted. Right. Show me a so-called rehabber who has 100% release rate and I’ll show you someone who’s limiting their intakes to only the wildlife they’re positive they can save—and there’s also a good chance they’re lying on their annual reports. 100% release rate, my arse…like that’ll ever happen…

The mocker they brought died that night, probably from infection in the still very swollen fractured wing.

The snake-bitten red tail died Sunday night, despite our best efforts. And yes, it sucked to lose him when he was fighting so hard and showing some improvement.

The red tail recovering from a wing fracture continues to mend and will be due for follow-up x-rays soon, as will the pileated woodpecker, also recovering from a wing fracture.

The red shoulder quintet is ready for release, having passed their live prey test this week. They’d be gone now, but we’ve had a week of near-steady high rain chances and humidity levels that have wreaked havoc with my nerves. No photos of them, as now the mere act of walking in the raptor flight should qualify for hazard pay. I tuck my head, deliver the food and get out before I get whacked by strafing red shoulders!

Next up for the raptor flight will be the screech, who’s going stir-crazy. I give him maybe two weeks before he passes his live prey test and is good to go. He thinks he’s good to go now!

In other good-to-gos, three of the older killdeer quartet are ready for release. The fourth developed some sort of neurological issue Friday afternoon. He was standing normally Friday morning; he was unable to stand and looked as if he’d broken his leg Friday afternoon. I took him to Smalley’s for x-rays, which showed nothing. Vet Richie Hatcher suggested something neurological and we tried steroids, with no results as of today. Sadly, I’m going to have to euthanize the poor fellow.

Both the brown thrasher duo and the red-bellied woodpecker are ready for the songbird flight, once I seal the “leak” where I’m pretty sure the two snakes got in. There just hasn’t been time this week, and honestly, I wouldn’t’ve put birds out in that stifling humidity, anyway.
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Look at the change in the red belly in just a week! No photos of the thrashers; they’ve decided they hate the paparazzi and freak out when I aim even my phone camera at them.

​The barnie is now totally self-feeding and stable enough for transfer to Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends, to join the barnie mob he currently has. He’ll be accompanied by this gorgeous juvenile osprey, who has a broken wing. Steve has a flight just for osprey, so he’s better set up for this fellow than I am.

​This nestling mourning dove was brought inside the finder's house by a cat. He’s uninjured but has been on antibiotics to be safe. As you can see from the videos, he seems to be doing just fine!

​The downy red shoulder ain’t so downy these days—pretty much just his head! He’s hit that “feed me-no, I’ll do it myself-no, feed me” stage that makes me crazy, and he’s getting antsy, too. As soon as the screech has some flight time and passes the live prey test, Mr. Red Shoulder goes in the raptor flight.

​This is what happens when stressy little birds like Carolina wrens go 24 hours with no food. The finders took them to a mammal rehabber the morning after they found them, and she arranged transport to LWR, but by the time the transporter arrived that afternoon—she was coming from near the Florida line—it was too late. Always, ALWAYS check with a federally licensed bird rehabber to see what can be done to keep the birds alive and stable until they’re with that rehabber or another federally licensed rehabber.

When a caller reported nearly mowing over a baby bird in the middle of their yard and texted a photo of a fledgling mocker, I asked that they place it safely in trees or shrubs near where it was found, so the parents could continue caring for their baby. The caller asked if it would be safe.

People, no rehabber can guarantee that a bird they tell you to re-nest or place in the bushes for the parents to locate will be safe. There are numerous factors we don’t control: hawks, owls, outdoor cats, coyotes, snakes…the list is endless. The point is, IF the baby can be reunited with its parents, that’s normally the route we’re going to suggest, because the parents will do a better job of raising their babies than we ever could. Placing it back where the parents can find it exposes the bird to the same risks it’s faced since hatching. It’s nature, “red in tooth and claw.”

However, if there are obvious risks, like a free-roaming cat, we’ll recommend bringing the baby to us for safety’s sake.

In this case, the caller said they had a free-roaming outdoor cat, because they live “in the country.” Well, guess what? So do I, so far in the sticks that we nearly have to have our sunshine piped in, but I don’t use that as an excuse to allow my cats to roam outside. If anything, it’s more of a reason to keep them in: rural areas are more prone to packs of coyotes, bobcats, great horned owls and other predators who’d love a nice cat-snack.
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My lecture to this effect fell on deaf ears. The mocker arrived an hour later.

​Another caller wanted to tell me her life story when all I needed to know was what bird she’d found and why she thought it needed help. Turned out to be an adult Mississippi kite (MIKI) that she swore couldn’t fly, whose only injuries, confirmed by Richie at Smalley’s, were scratches to the face. Normally I try to get adult birds back to their home territory; this person’s comments about wanting to keep the MIKI as a pet and “train him to sit on my shoulder” (yeah, good luck with THAT) led me to believe this bird would be safer released here and allowed to find his way back home—it was only about 35 miles, and MIKIs can fly pretty darn fast. He was probably home for…ummm…coffee the next morning.

​And finally, the wood ducklings are, of course, adorable.

I don’t even know where to begin…With the 25 new intakes in one week and their various issues or the progress or lack thereof of the ongoing LWR guests?
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Let’s start with a release or three: the GHOs were released early last week and in typical GHO doofusy fashion, only one actually produced a halfway decent video. The second flew off before I could get the camera even aimed at him; the third tipped his box over, came out on the ground in full threat display, and when I turned off the camera and started toward him to check him out, he flew off…This, people, is why I prefer not to have an audience at releases. Ya never know what you’re gonna get: great photo ops or a scene from a Three Stooges movie!

​With the GHOs free now, the five fledgling red shoulders moved into the raptor flight. Unlike owls, red shoulders don’t cluster together for nice photo ops. Below is the best I’ve managed.

​The flyers transferred from Libby for release took a few days before leaving on separate nights, but they did finally succumb to the siren call of my local colony of flyers.

The week wasn’t without its share of sadness, of course—what week in wildlife rehab is? Both the adult screech with the eye injury and the fledgling screech with the foot issues required euthanasia, and another damn snake got into the songbird flight and ate the blue jay. Needless to say, nothing else has been placed in the songbird flight until I finish giving it a thorough inspection to determine how, after two snake-free years, they’re suddenly managing to get in.

The mocker nestling who’d been rescued from ants didn’t make it, and the fledgling mocker who’d been rescued from an avian beat-down last Sunday is looking highly suspect today; I don’t know what’s up with him, but I highly doubt he’ll be with us tomorrow.

The red tail and pileated recovering from wing fractures continue to do well, as does the barred owl whose release seemed a sure thing last week. We tried; he refused. Apparently he needed a few more days’ R&R at the LWR Bed & Breakfast.
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The remaining fledgling screech is doing the usual “drive the rehabber insane” routine: eating well one day, refusing to eat the next, acting normal one day, acting “off” the next…I swear they do this stuff deliberately to see how big a panic they can send rehabbers into…

​The nestling red shoulder has outgrown his tiny box and now has new digs.

In terms of new intakes, well, grab a drink and a snack and get comfy; we’re gonna be a while…
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This fledgling barn owl was found alone inside an old house, rail thin and lethargic. The family who found him knew they had barnies nesting in the old house but thought they’d all fledged until they found this poor fellow. After a few days of force-feeding, he finally decided he preferred to eat on his own and is acting like a real barnie now. In a few days, he’ll be transferred to Bubba & Friends raptor rehab, where Steve Hicks has, at last count, nine—I think—barnies, so he’ll be with a good group of his “kin.”

​When a family heard a commotion on their porch at midnight, they rushed out to find three pre-fledgling brown thrashers, one in the cat’s mouth, one in the dog’s mouth and one free. The cat-attack victim had a severely broken leg; it wasn’t fixable and he required euthanasia. The other two are doing great and will be ready for the songbird flight as soon as I’m sure I’ve snake-proofed it.

Late last week I got a call from a person who’d “rescued” 10 wood ducklings when they “fell from the tree.” People, wood ducklings hatch and then free-fall from the tree to the ground, where they bounce once or twice and set off after Mama Woodie to head for the nearest water source. He kidnapped these babies. My voicemail message clearly states if callers can’t or won’t bring me wildlife, they are not to leave a message. He not only left a message; in that message he stated that he was willing and able to bring me the ducklings.

When I called him back, he said his children had been “playing” with the ducklings for five hours. I explained that he had, in fact, kidnapped the ducklings and that his children needed to leave them alone, as they’re high-stress birds. He then said that he’d get them to me as soon as his children got out of the pool. Three hours later, no ducklings, no replies to texts or calls. I reported him to the game warden and wrote the poor wood ducklings off as dead, given that the idiot admitted he didn’t know how to care for them.

God bless my game wardens; Dan Stiles, who took this case, didn’t give up until he located the ducklings. The original caller had given them to a buddy who raised game fowl, who KNEW he wasn’t supposed to have the ducklings but took them anyway. Both jackasses got reamed by Dan, who confiscated the nine surviving babies and brought them to LWR.
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Within 24 hours we lost two more; the remaining seven are thriving and just as adorable as they can be. 

When people noticed a great blue heron hanging around and acting odd, not flying away when approached, they called one of LWR’s volunteer transporters, who got the bird and brought it here. He was thin, but most herons tend to be on the thin side. His eyes were bright and clear; he was alert; nothing was broken. I was stymied, so I called colleague Grace Krick in Connecticut, who’s my go-to for waterfowl questions. Other than suggesting treating for parasites, which is standard protocol for waterfowl, she agreed that it was puzzling. He was keeping down his food, standing upright—nothing seemed wrong and yet something obviously was.
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The next day he started throwing his food up and by that night was unable to stand. The final straw was when he started having seizures just before lights-out. No bird is going to suffer like that on my watch. I euthanized him that night.

About midweek a worker at a dog and cat rescue called LWR reporting that a teenage girl had called the rescue stating that three baby birds “just showed up” in her bathroom.  A volunteer transporter met the teen, who thrust the box of birds at her and drove away before the volunteer could ask any questions, and when she texted me a photo of the birds, they were killdeer. I promise you, ain’t no way three tiny killdeer “just showed up” in that girl’s bathroom. I called the rescue worker back to see if she could contact the girl for more info, and she said the teen was sticking to her story.
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They were weak and lethargic on intake, and given their general stressiness, I figured they were done for.

And hot on their heels, a woman called “for another child,” not her son, and said he’d found a baby bird in his yard and took it inside. When she texted me a photo, guess what it was? Yep, another killdeer. And when they arrived with the bird, the pre-teen had given it milk. I sorta lost it at this point and just looked him straight in the eye and informed him, “Birds don’t have boobs. You may have just killed this bird; birds can’t digest milk.”

This little bird was in even worse shape from milk and overhandling. I put him with the other three, fully expecting to lose all four overnight.
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To my surprise and delight, they’re doing well—not as active or vocal as the older killdeer quartet were when they came in, but eating and peeping quietly.

​Speaking of the older killdeer quartet, just look at how they continue to grow!

​As if seven wood ducklings and eight killdeer, all high-stress birds, weren’t enough, five nestling chimney swifts—very high maintenance birds—also came in. Thus far they’re doing well.

​And this nestling woodpecker, probably a red belly—too soon to be sure—came in when one of the vet techs at Smalley’s said her father found him on the ground and couldn’t locate the nest.

Adding to the general chaos of the week, concerned residents of a neighborhood who love their local red tails brought an adult male to LWR with what they thought was a broken leg, as he was unable to stand. On intake, a quick exam showed no breaks but a massively swollen and bloodied foot. The bird was starvation thin and lethargic. I haven’t had to treat bumblefoot, an infected wound on a bird’s foot, in almost a decade, so I called Steve Hicks to confirm my memory was correct on protocol. He suggested taking him in for x-rays just to confirm there were no pellets present in the leg or foot.
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By the time I took him out of the box at Smalley’s, his upper thigh, which seemed fine on intake, was oozing, so we suspected an abscess that my intake exam may have ruptured. The previously unnoticeable wound now looked consistent with an abscess, and the x-rays showed no pellets, no breaks. 

​By the next morning, however, while the foot had gone down noticeably, he’d broken with maggots all in and around the thigh wound, and none of my usual cleaning procedures were working. I could still see the damn things moving under his skin. So I called Smalley’s and vet Peggy Hobby suggested a treatment I’d never tried. I ran to Smalley’s to pick up the meds I needed, and by the time I got back, the red tail’s leg was black—and now two puncture wounds were clearly visible.

​*sigh* I called Smalley’s back to ask Peggy what we needed to do for a snake-bitten bird. The treatment was exactly what we’d already discussed the previous day, when we were convinced he’d tangled with a squirrel and had an abscess. So that’s where we stand today: his foot “deflates” a little more each day; his thigh is black but not hard, and we’re hoping the flesh that rots away from the snake venom will be replaced with new flesh. It’s uncertain at this point, but he is looking and acting better than on intake.

​And in case you’re curious, LWR is now at 198 intakes for the year and it’s just midyear. Close to forty of those birds are still “guests” here. And yes, I’m exhausted…

​‘Cause I honestly thought this week had been a bit slower till I sat down to work on this week’s update and realized LWR’d had 12 intakes, in addition to the ongoing “guests.” The good news is that we had four releases this week! But first…
 
…can you stand this much adorable?

​This poor little downy red shoulder hawk's nest was destroyed by a logger, who then took him home and fed him worms and hamburger for TWO WEEKS before contacting LWR. He claimed he’d been trying through DNR to locate a rehabber for that length of time as well, but I wasn’t buying it. All DNR employees have access to the same list the public does, published on their website, so DNR not being able locate a rehabber sounds like hogwash to me. Especially since he kept lowering the amount of time he’d had the bird. It went from 2 weeks in a voicemail to a week and a half on the phone to a week to the volunteer transporter who rescued the bird to 5 days in a follow-up message to me. Sounds like someone could have had a promising career in politics to me…

​At any rate, the sweet little fellow finally, after three days of proper diet, cast his first pellet and I nearly danced a jig. It was small, but it was a PELLET! He’s eating well and casting those pellets regularly now; hopefully there won’t be any developmental issues that show later as a result of that early crap diet.

​Sadly, an adult red shoulder that came in the same day didn’t survive the night. He was emaciated and lethargic on intake and didn’t really have a chance.
 
Nor did this poor little hatchling, probably a mocker, who had been found covered with ants.

In another case of human idiocy, this fledgling blue jay had also been kept illegally for two weeks and fed beef strips and worms—and treated like a pet. He’s having to be re-trained not to perch on my shoulder, because that’s NOT what a wild bird should do. Again, there are no immediate signs of damage, but nutritional deficiencies sometimes come back to haunt us later down the road.  People, I cannot stress this enough: when you find orphaned, injured or ill wildlife, DON’T TRY TO “FIX” IT YOURSELF. CALL A REHABBER IMMEDIATELY. Not an hour from now, not tomorrow, not next week. IMMEDIATELY. 

​And yet another adult barred owl came in, probably hit by car. Luck was with him; he escaped with nothing more than a nasty headache and might be released as early as this afternoon.
 
This little mocker nestling alternates between lethargy and energetic gaping for food. His finders said the entire nest looked to’ve been attacked and destroyed, and he was found on the ground on top of a dead sib. Could have been a free-roaming cat or a raccoon or a hawk or owl, or even a gray squirrel. I’m presuming cat attack and medicating accordingly, just to be safe.

​When mammal rehabber Libby Carey said she had an anhinga, also known as a water turkey or snake bird (when they swim, only their heads and necks are above water; looks like a snake) and that it appeared to be a fledgling, we both presumed he’d just gotten lost somehow, since he was found in a parking lot with no parents in sight. He wasn’t self-feeding, and Libby got him to me ASAP. Sadly, he didn’t survive the night.

​I’d guess this juvenile house finch, who also came from Libby, whacked a window, as she reported him “helicoptering” when he tried to fly. He seemed alert and flying well the morning after intake here from Libby: he escaped and flew nicely through the rehab room, so to the flight pen he went, where he flew perfectly and was subsequently released. Not the greatest shot of him, but it was one of the few times he was actually not in motion in the songbird flight!

Libby is having issues with some stray cats she hasn’t been able to catch, so she was reluctant to release her last two flyers in her yard. Since I have a colony here, she asked if I could take her “babies” for safe release here. Of course, I’ll never say no to flyers! These two have the option of freedom every night but haven’t yet taken advantage of it. Once my local colony gets wind of them, though, I suspect they’ll be long gone, joining the happy throng that populates my woods.

​And just today, this mocker fledgling came in. The finder had seen adult birds that looked to him like mockers as well attacking the fledgling, and when he intervened, he thought he saw injuries to the wing. An intake exam revealed no injuries, just the normal bare-ish underwings of a fledgling bird. I explained that the adults were probably attacking this fellow because he wasn’t their baby but had wandered into their territory. Mockers are territorial little terrors.

​And now to those releases: three barred owls and a red shoulder regained their freedom this week! One of the barreds and the red shoulder weren’t too sure initially; the second barred took off like a flash, precluding video or photos; the third barred at least allowed for some decent video but no photos.

​The goslings still haven’t made it to their planned release site…time constraints on my part. We’re working on it!

​The adult screech eats well but I’m thinking based on his behavior that his eye is at least uncomfortable and at most painful. Wild animals mask their pain quite well; they have to in order to survive.  We’re probably looking at euthanasia for him, which hurts my heart. I love “my” screeches.
 
The two young screeches continue to grow but the foot issue on the little male that I mentioned last week has gotten worse. His feet are rigidly splayed; he cannot bend his toes, which are swollen. And the skin is peeling off his lower legs and feet. Vet Richie Hatcher recommended a course of treatment that I’m trying now, but neither of us is optimistic. Hopeful, yes; optimistic, no. It’s not looking good for the little fellow.
 
The female screech has no issues at all aside from being convinced she’s at least 100 times larger than she is…
 
No photos of the screeches this week; I honestly forgot to get any! Same with the pileated who, surprisingly, hasn’t totally trashed his crate yet. But it sounds like I have major construction going on from dawn till dusk…Gotta love a pileated!
 
The Carolina wren refuses to leave the songbird flight; sadly, an oak snake somehow got in and ate my sweet brown thrasher last night. All I can figure is he slipped in unnoticed yesterday while the “escape hatch” was open. Now I’ll be paranoid about checking for snakes every time I leave it open for birds to leave. Needless to say, this particular snake was terminated with extreme prejudice. I know it won’t bring back the poor thrasher, but he won’t by-God ever eat another bird.

​The GHOs passed their live prey test, so as soon as we have several days of low/no rain predicted, they’re good to go. We need the rain, though, so I’m not complaining about another rain-delayed release.

​Once the GHOs have vacated the premises, the FIVE fledgling red shoulders will move in. No photos of those rascals this week; we’re down to “flyby” feedings, as they’ll seize every opportunity to escape now. They’re beyond ready for the raptor flight!
 
The red tail whose broken wing may or may not heal properly for flight is doing well and eating eagerly. Fingers crossed she’s releasable; if not, as I’ve mentioned before, we’re looking at placing her as an ed bird.

Finally, the killdeer outgrew their box and have been moved to a tub until they’re feathered enough to head for the songbird flight. I was a bit hesitant to move them, given their overall stressiness, but they seem to be adapting just fine to their new, larger digs. They’re such pretty little stilt-legged dears!

While the rehab gods took pity and lowered intakes this week, the pace at LWR remained frenetic, with releases, fruit-basket turnovers and the usual baby season mayhem.
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First, the big news: the barred owl sextet was released and did great—so great, in fact, that I managed only a couple of short videos and just one photo. They scattered like the wind!

​And if you’re still curious as to what those last two intakes were last Sunday, we had an adult barred owl and a pre-fledgling brown thrasher come in. The barred owl had a very nasty eye injury—the conjunctiva covering the eye was ripped badly and there was really no way to repair that. He required euthanasia.

​The Sunday thrasher joined the other one, and they’ve both since gone to the songbird flight, along with the Carolina wren—sadly, the sole survivor of the original quintet—where they’re happily mauling crickets.

​With the raptor flight barred owl-free, the GHOs moved in. They’re happier with room to fly, and as soon as they pass the live prey test, they should be good to go…

​…so the red shoulders can move in. These two are definitely flight pen-ready.

​These two, however need a little more time—although by the time the GHOs vacate, they’ll probably be ready, as well.

​They were joined this week by a third red shoulder, also an older nestling. He was found in the middle of the road and after the initial shock wore off, he turned into an eating machine just like his older foster sibs. I don’t dare put him in the same box with the older two; they’re too aggressive!

​The red-bellied woodpeckers and the obstinate cardinal have been released; after a couple of days the red bellies stopped showing up more than once or twice a day for handouts, but the cardie is a regular still.

I’ve not managed to find time to get the goslings to their release site but they’re still happy in the pen. The red tail is eating well and still just as laid-back as when she came in. The “broadwing” turned out to be the darkest red shoulder I’ve ever seen—when he started feeling his oats he started letting out red shoulder screams right and left. He should be releasable once he’s had another few days of good eats to put some more weight on. The adult screech with the luxated lens is now finding his own food, instead of having it handed to him. This bodes well for his eventual release. The barred owl I was afraid was blind is also finding his own food now, so he may eventually be releasable, as well.
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This Carolina wren fledgling was attacked by a cat and brought to LWR fairly quickly afterwards. She was in good shape and very alert, or so it seemed. I started her on meds, and was pretty sure she’d be headed for the songbird flight once she was off meds. She was dead the next morning.

​An early morning call about a cat-attacked bird led me to believe the bird was on the way immediately, as I stressed the need for speed with cat attack victims—they need antibiotics ASAP, as cat saliva carries bacteria toxic to wildlife. Instead, the finder spent the day looking for “someone closer,” despite the fact that LWR was only a 20-minute drive away. When the adult female cardinal finally arrived late that afternoon, I was hopeful the finder hadn’t wasted too much precious time and started meds immediately. Unfortunately, it was too late; the poor bird died overnight.

​These Carolina wren hatchlings were found in the saddlebag of a repossessed motorcycle. One died before arrival at LWR but the surviving four seemed in good shape…until they all started dying, one by one, within hours of each other. Currently we’re down to just the one survivor, who’s not looking promising.

​This morning yet another hit-by-car barred owl came in, with his left eye swollen shut. It’s cloudy but looks like it should clear up. We’ll see.

​The screeches are doing well, aside from some worrisome foot/leg issues that have cropped up with the younger one. He’ll be headed to Smalley’s for x-rays ASAP to see if we can figure out what’s going on.

​The pileated has discovered that drumming on his crate is a lot more fun than demolishing logs, so I give the crate another week before it’s totally trashed. I keep somewhat older, tatty crates for cases like this, so the really good ones don’t get ruined by over-enthusiastic adult woodpeckers!

​The killdeer are growing like weeds and impossible to photograph now, as they’re never still long enough. I did manage a couple of videos of them right after paper changes, though. Cute little rascals, huh?!

And to give you a rough idea of how the year is going thus far, LWR is at 161 intakes for the year as of today; 73 of those were last month. While that may be small potatoes for a large, fully staffed center, keep in mind that LWR is a one-person operation serving basically the entire southern half of Georgia.