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And the mystery bird is…

7/15/2010

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…an Eastern phoebe (at left), according to the expert bird identifiers at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology!  They based their ID on “the tiny feet, big head, thin, flat-looking bill with the tiny hook on the tip.”  I’m not positive I agree, but then I’m not an expert at identifying birds with no color or feather patterns to go on!

Thanks to all three of you who donated; only two actually ventured a guess. One agreed with my suspicion that it might be a chipping sparrow; the other guessed sedge wren, which isn’t native to Georgia. Based on the resounding lack of response, even after the local paper ran a story on our albino phoebe and plugged the contest, I’d say contests were not something y’all’re interested in. Probably won’t try that again…

 

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The flight pen is once again occupied, by the sole blue jay from the 7-5 update, a brown thrasher and this young cowbird, who came in with three ruptured air sacs—you can see one in the lower portion of the photo. I have to admit that I’m not a huge fan of cowbirds, as they’re lazy, good-for-nothing wastrels. Cowbirds don’t build nests or raise their young; they lay their eggs in other birds’ nests, usually one egg per nest, and then those poor birds’ babies frequently die from starvation as the larger and more aggressive cowbird nestling gets all the food and maybe even shoves the parents’ real babies from the nest.  That said, they are native North American birds and protected by the federal Migratory Bird Act, so I grit my teeth and rehab the little bums.

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Several Carolina wrens came in recently, as well. One was DOA; his sibling was dying.  There was simply no reason for these birds to die, except that the people who were supposed to bring them to me didn’t follow my instructions on how to feed the birds that morning until they got them to me. And since my car was in the shop, I did reluctantly have to allow them to bring me the birds, which they dumped on my front porch without knocking on the door, calling me, or blowing the horn to let me know they had arrived. It wouldn’t have mattered for either bird, as they’d both been too long without food, but this is a concrete example of why I prefer not to have people bring animals directly to my home. I don’t want to walk on my porch/in my yard to find boxes of dead or dying animals because people are too sorry or too stupid to see if I’m home before dumping their “finds.”

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The third Carolina wren quite literally hatched in front of the finder’s eyes after the nest had been inadvertently removed from the motor where it had been built. Rather than calling DNR immediately to get my number, the finder walked around holding this newly-hatched baby for seven—yes, SEVEN—hours before seeking help.  Baby birds can survive for a short while after hatching off the nutrients contained in the egg, but that’s just to tide them over in case Mama Bird’s eating or taking a potty break when they hatch; it’s not designed to see them through almost half a day—especially not a Carolina wren hatchling, which needs feeding every 10 minutes for the first several days.

Folks, baby songbirds are different from babies of other species. They HAVE to be fed regularly—and often—for  12-14 hours a day. The timing between feedings can range from a mere 10 minutes to half an hour, depending on species, and if more than a couple of feedings are missed, particularly in the higher-metabolism birds like wrens and hummers, their little systems can begin to shut down, meaning that once the rehabber receives them, s/he will probably not be able to save them. In effect, the food passes through their systems undigested, so they starve to death while the rehabber feeds them in a desperate attempt to save their little lives. THIS is why I stress the importance of swift action when someone calls about a baby bird.  Their little lives are hanging in the balance!
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These chimney swifts came from the Cobb County Emergency Animal Clinic. I received a midnight call from one of their workers last Friday. It seems that all the rehabbers up that way were full, not licensed for birds, or had always refused any wildlife the clinic attempted to send them, so this poor worker drove all the way from Cobb County Saturday morning to bring me these little fellows and a nest full of near-fledgling barn swallows. (Yeah, my car was still being repaired…IS still being repaired, in fact. The transmission went out while I was on my way to the vet with a carload of birds.)

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The swallows had a pal waiting when they arrived, as I’d just received a singleton the day before and was beginning to worry about his lack of interest in anything. He perked right up at the sound and sight of fellow swallows, though, and now all four share the same nest quite happily. Swallows tend to fledge later in their development than most songbirds, as they absolutely must be able to fly well when they leave the nest. They eat on the wing, meaning that they use their wide little mouths to scoop insects right out of the air, so it’s imperative that they be fully developed before they leave the nest. These little beauties are starting to fly in place in the nest, which is a gorgeous sight to see, so it won’t be long before they’re ready for the flight pen.

In news of the weird (and quite funny), I recently received a call from someone who was convinced they had rescued a “baby” bald eagle from a lake. I questioned the caller about feather appearance, the presence of a hooked beak and talons, etc. The feathers were brownish, the beak was hooked and there were talons on the feet, confirmed the caller. I wasn’t sure exactly what the person had found, so I asked if a cell phone photo could be sent to my phone.  Upon receipt of the photo, showing a small bird in the palm of someone’s hand, I burst out laughing and showed it to my niece, who snickered and exclaimed, “It’s a dove!”
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Announcing LWR’s first (and possibly last) ever contest!

7/5/2010

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We received this beautiful albino fledgling recently and are awaiting official word from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology as to what species this little love is—I have no clue, lacking feather colors/patterns to guide me! Meanwhile, we’ve decided to make guessing her (arbitrary gender assignment) species a fund-raiser of sorts. Anyone who’d like to take a guess as to her species may do so by clicking on one of the PayPal donation buttons on every page of this website except this one. For a donation of at least $10 (larger amounts are gladly accepted!), you can enter your guess as to species in the “comments/instructions” field of the PayPal payment page. (Those of you who regularly donate to LWR may e-mail me directly to enter your guess.) The winner—which may be the person who comes closest to correct species—will receive an 8x10 print, suitable for framing, of the mystery bird.  Donations & guesses are due no later than Saturday, July 10, and the winner will be announced in the next LWR update, scheduled for July 15.

Now, on to our (ir)regularly scheduled update: June turned out to be less than a lull month, with more intakes than any previous June since I’ve been keeping track of such minutiae.  So much for a break, huh?
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Here’s a photo of the two remaining possums. Doesn’t it look like they have a hard life, though?!  Possums are such easy-to-please little things: give ‘em food, water and a bed, and they’re perfectly happy. These babies have another couple of months before they’re good to go.

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The flight pen is currently empty, as all four blue jays, three mockers and the robin have all been released, along with several others that came in after the last update. The jays, shameless beggars that they are, still dive-bomb me for food; the robin shows up every now and then, as does the much-earlier-released bluebird and a couple of the wrens.

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I do have another blue jay awaiting his turn in the flight pen; he’s still not quite ready for that yet. Isn’t he cute, though, in this shot of him napping? I love the way birds sleep!

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I also had a severely imprinted barred owl come in recently. I knew she was imprinted the moment I stuck my gloved hand into her box and she calmly stepped onto the glove. Then she took meat from the forceps and later from my bare fingers (don’t try that at home, boys and girls; I did it to further prove the level of her imprinting).  She also walked off the glove and up my arm to my shoulder, where she sat quite contentedly, without digging in her talons. I wasn’t real thrilled about that and we’ve managed to avoid a repeat, as she could still have done serious damage with her talons if something had startled her. Needless to say, she won't be releasable and will have to be an educational bird.

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In the “didn’t make it to release” category, we have this sweet barn swallow who came in after hitting a window. She seemed to be fine and was acting as if she might be releasable when she quite literally keeled over in a matter of minutes. Swallows and swifts are difficult birds to rehab, especially the adults.

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Another casualty was this nestling chimney swift, who again seemed to be doing well and died shortly before sunrise on his eighth day in rehab.  Chimney swifts have really weird digestive tracts, requiring saliva from their parents to give them the proper intestinal bacteria. My guess is this fellow didn’t get enough of that bacteria before he was orphaned.

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This crow came in with a massively deformed foot, the result of a nest injury that had healed improperly. Had the bird fallen from the nest when the injury was fresh, it probably could have been repaired; as it is, he fledged with a nasty deformity that prevented him from perching—the leg had broken at the joint and the broken lower portion had fused itself to the back of the leg. Imagine pulling your foot up to your butt. Now imagine it’s fused there. That’s pretty close to what his leg looked like. Needless to say, he was euthanized once it was obvious that he’d never be able to perch.

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This mocker will also need euthanasia, sadly. Both her feet are deformed to the point that she can’t perch. I knew when she came in she had foot problems, and I tried to correct them, but it’s not happening.  She’ll never be able to perch, and that’s a necessity for the release of any bird.

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The jury’s still out on this juvenile white ibis. Yes, I’m aware he’s brown; juvenile white ibises are brown! His finders saw him hit a power line in flight and crash, and they stopped to rescue him. While his legs aren’t broken, I suspect a busted hip. His arrival over the holiday weekend has delayed his trip to the vet for confirmation of my suspicions, though.

And to close on a happy note, Chester, the downy screech owl who came in with the open leg fracture has his splint off and is doing great!  Way to go, Dr. Shelley Baumann of Smalley’s Animal Hospital!!!

Below are photos of his x-rays:

 
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Initial x-ray—see the break just above the joint?


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Three days later, to make sure leg was aligned properly

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A week later

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Two weeks later

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Last week, when the splint came off, after a month

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The last photo of Chester with his splint!

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Here, he fights as Shelley removes his splint…

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…and shows his gratitude for all her hard work!

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And here we have the little Napoleon wannabe perching and showing just what a big, bad bird he is (in his mind)!

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