So maybe I’m still not the most emotionally stable person right now, but honestly, this week saw its share of sheer idiocy.

First off, a caller originally had four Carolina wrens; they’d been fed cat food every few hours for four days and the person waited till one was dead and another dying before deciding to bring the birds to LWR. One of the surviving three was dying on arrival; the other two were dead within three hours.

Folks, first off, baby birds MUST be fed every half hour. Period. Second, while cat food is an acceptable EMERGENCY diet, it should NOT be used for more than 24 hours. Nutritional deficiencies will start to kick in after that, and may be irreversible.

Then a call came in about another set of what I figured was Caros, as well—recent hatchlings. The caller couldn’t get them to LWR till after work, so I carefully explained keeping them in a warm place and giving them tiny bits of cat food every half hour. To this person’s credit, they did try; the intellect just wasn’t there. The birds, Caros as I thought, were tiny ice cubes floating in cat food juice when they arrived. They barely made it overnight.

And then we had the purple martin who’d been fed dog food for TWO WEEKS before a miracle occurred and the finder was able to locate LWR. By this time, there was nothing I could do. The bird had MBD (severe calcium deficiency) so bad he couldn’t stand up; his attempts at wing-waving to beg for food were little shimmies close to the body, and the inside of his beak was near-white. He didn’t last the night.
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Contrast this, however, with the people who found a nestling/almost fledgling grackle in their yard and had it to LWR within the hour. He’s in the flight pen with his awkward, ungainly, loveable self.

​And when this near-fledgling martin was found on the ground, his finders wasted no time getting him to LWR; he’s also in the songbird flight.

​The caller who found these Carolina wrens also called immediately; the runt didn’t make it but he was looking rough on intake—probably hatched a day or so after his sibs and just couldn’t keep up.

The big news this week, however, isn’t really even a proper intake, as it’s from my own yard—or my parents’ yard, more accurately. I’m still spending most of my time with Mama at the moment, so when we heard Daddy’s elderly dog barking late yesterday, it was a little odd; he seldom barks anymore. When I walked out he was circling something that initially looked like a bullfrog from a distance but when I got closer I could see he had a hognose snake, aka puffing adder, cornered. The dog will kill a snake, so I ran to grab gloves and snagged the dog by the collar with one hand as I snatched the poor hognose up with the other and held him above my head to keep the dog from snapping at him.

Hognose snakes aren’t as common as they used to be; in fact, the Southern hognose is considered a vulnerable population. I’m lousy at differentiating between the two, but my rescue looked like an Eastern to me.

These are snakes I utterly adore. They’re nonvenomous, small, nonaggressive—although they’ll spread those heads flat like a cobra in a threat display—and play dead when threatened. What’s not to love?
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Below are some photos of this adorable fellow, and a less-than-stellar video of him playing dead and then slithering away as he realized the coast was clear. I took him to a safer location for release, away from elderly marauding dogs.

​More on the “ongoing” LWR guests next week; time is short this week and I’m juggling editing deadlines, feeding birds, and fielding calls on injured/orphaned birds.

DNR seemed determined to get my mind off this first Father’s Day without Daddy, with two visits from game wardens bookending the day. The first visit brought a sharpie, probably HBC; the second brought an adult great horned owl with a broken wing.

The sharpie doesn’t appear to have any fractures but showed some signs of head and/or spinal trauma. On intake he was unable to stand properly and had little reflex in his feet; by tonight he was standing and acting much more alert.

The GHO’s elbow is massively swollen, which I’m afraid is masking a really nasty fracture.  We’ll see as soon as I can get x-rays.

The starving fledgling red shoulder from a couple of weeks ago is looking great and self-feeding.

Last week’s downy hawk is probably a Coop. In addition to not being as mouthy as a red shoulder, he just looks “Coopy”—i.e., insane.

The screech continues to grow apace and would like to be in the raptor flight, as soon as space is available.

The young GHO who came in months ago as an eyes-closed downy baby with his egg tooth still in place has dibs on the raptor flight, though, as soon as the barreds are out, so Sir Screech will have to wait a while.

The blue jays have been offered freedom several times but thus far have opted for sure handouts in the songbird flight instead. They did seem a bit antsy today, so maybe this week they’ll fly the coop. Maybe.

Another couple of brown thrashers came in, an adult and a nestling. The adult had been attacked by something and had severe neurological issues. He didn’t survive the night. The nestling, whom I forgot to get a photo of, was crawling with mites; once treated for that, he began to thrive, although his feathers still look a bit rough.

And this little guy, probably a robin, came in after his finder initially fed him an acceptable emergency diet but switched to Kaytee Exact when some idiot recommended it instead. People, the label on Exact CLEARLY states it’s not for use with wild birds—see below. Nearly all baby songbirds are obligate insectivores, meaning even seed-eating adults feed their babies bugs. Exact is a grain-based diet. Do you know what happens when you feed a grain-based diet to a bird that needs insect protein? Yeah, tain’t pretty. Luckily, the finder questioned the use of Exact when she saw the bird rapidly decline and got him to LWR ASAP. Now on a proper diet and getting antibiotics for possible aspiration pneumonia (he was click-breathing on intake), he seems to be doing well. Time will tell, but I’m hopeful there will be no lasting damage to the wee fellow.

This will be a short update, as I’m still coping—barely— with Daddy’s death, as well as a massive editing backlog; also, there have been few intakes the past couple of weeks, as I had more pressing issues to deal with and tried to divert calls to other rehabbers when possible.

First, thanks to those of you who sent condolences in whatever form in the past week. I’m still not caught up on my emails and my presence on FB is almost nonexistent at the moment, so I may not have seen or acknowledged all of them individually yet.  A special thanks goes to colleague Kathryn Dudeck of Chattahoochee Nature Center for taking the five brancher barnies off my hands during Daddy’s time on hospice.

As far as older intakes, we’re pretty much in a holding pattern. With the end of the nonstop rain, all the denizens of the songbird flight were released and most have stopped coming down for supplemental feedings. Currently there are two blue jays building up their flight muscles and awaiting release.

The barreds are still awaiting release; access to my preferred release site for them was flooded due to all the rain and I’m waiting for it to dry out sufficiently to get back there and give them their freedom.

The flyers are still awaiting release, as well; in another couple of days I should have most of the editing backlog under control so some of these poor babies awaiting release can go.

The two major intakes from the past couple of weeks were a starving red shoulder fledgling and a downy probable red shoulder nestling—not real sure on him; he could be a Coop. As colleague Steve Hicks says, “We know his last name; we just don’t know his first name yet.”
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The starving fledgling was iffy for the first couple of days but is self-feeding now and looking good, if still a bit thin. Regular meals will correct that, though. The first photo below is day of intake; second is today.

​The nestling RS or Coop is doing well despite having been fed boiled chicken for nearly two days before intake—this AFTER the finder called, indicated it would be a couple of days before they could bring me the bird and asked for interim feeding advice. The one food I SPECIFICALLY said NOT to feed him was chicken, but the finder, obviously knowing more than an experienced, licensed rehabber, opted not only to feed chicken but to BOIL it first. People, no wildlife—mammal or bird—has stoves or microwaves to cook their food. When they’re fed cooked or processed foods, it can seriously and possibly fatally screw up their digestive systems. And then the finder called me condescending when I dressed them down about not following my very specific feeding instructions. Well duh, if you can’t follow simple, detailed instructions…

Sorry for the dearth of photos and details on current residents and releases; honestly, getting photos and videos was the last thing on my mind last week.  I’m still trying to regain my equilibrium, and it’s not an easy task—still one breath away from hysterical sobbing most of the time, quite frankly, and my concentration is all but nonexistent.  As Daddy said to me three days before his death, “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll all work out.” Just bear with me while I try to make those words reality.