(With apologies to The Wizard of Oz...)

Sorry y’all, it was too good a header to resist—and accurate, to boot. It doesn’t portend a depressing read, though, so stick with me!

Where to begin? The swifts were released and took off so quickly I managed nary a photo or video clip of their departure. I don’t know who was happier, me or them. I suspect me; swifts are an enormously labor- and time-intensive undertaking, and I’m glad I don’t see them often in rehab.

The cardinal with the labored breathing died within a 30-minute span between feedings early last week. His breathing had improved drastically; he was alert and active and demanding food…and then he was dead. No clue as to what happened.  Adding to the general confusion, the singleton Carolina wren died overnight, although late that evening I suspected he was headed out; he’d just gotten “the look.”  Experienced rehabbers know “the look”—it’s hard to describe; you just know something’s not right and all the fight’s gone. Again, no clue…

This is one of the most frustrating aspects of wildlife rehab, losing birds when there doesn’t seem to be a logical reason for it. It’s why I snort derisively when people try to flatter me with compliments like “Oh, you know so much…” Nah, y’all, as I’m fond of saying, I fly by the seat of my pants and hope like hell my britches don’t rip. I suspect any rehabber who’s honest about it will ‘fess up to the same feeling.

As I said, though, this actually wasn’t a horrid week. The possum is in outside caging now, awaiting enough growth for release. He’s totally self-feeding and still the messiest possum I’ve ever seen. 

The truck grille wrens have shot up like weeds and are ready for release later this week, if the weather holds.  Look at those fuzzy heads! I love their old man fluff (technically the last of their nestling down)!

The barred owls are starting to move around the flight pen a bit more. One seems pretty unfazed when I walk in to give them fresh rodents and water; the other always heads as far away from me as possible within the confines of the pen.

The juvenile Mississippi kite has done his fair share of growing since last week, as well, but is still a mouthy little rascal where food is concerned. No vids of him this week; the uncooperative little snot will stop in mid-cry and glare silently at the camcorder!

This late-nestling blue jay (trust me; for all his size, he can’t fly yet) was found on the ground by a couple late one evening last week. They looked for a nest, couldn’t find one, and called LWR. Early the next morning, Sir Jay was at the LWR bed ‘n’ breakfast. He’s a smart little rascal, as befits his corvid status, and of course, oozes personality!

“But what about that header?” I can just hear you asking…

This juvenile grackle was rescued from free-roaming cats. His rescuer, whose cat is safely confined indoors, said she looked out her window to see strays batting the bird around. She retrieved him, got him to me, and liked my suggestion that she purchase or rent a humane trap and start taking all the neighborhood strays to the shelter.

I have to admit, I was so tired and sleep-deprived when this guy came in that I couldn’t decide if he was a species of blackbird or a grackle. I posted pix on Facebook for my fellow rehabbers to see and was slightly comforted by the fact that for a while, they also debated grackle versus blackbird!

In addition to having all his tail feathers ripped out, the grackle also had a nasty puncture wound just above his preen gland and bruising and scrapes up the side of his hip. (The preen gland is a small, oil-filled gland just above the base of the tail; when a bird preens, it spreads oil from this gland over the feathers, waterproofing them.) The feathers will grow back; the puncture wound looked pretty nasty and deep.

A week of antibiotics later, the grackle is an ill-tempered denizen of the LWR B&B with a nicely healed wound and would like nothing better than to pack his bags and leave. Normally, I hold tail-featherless birds until I see some regrowth starting, but this guy has escaped several times when I’ve opened his cage door to medicate him, and he flies and maneuvers quite well, so as soon as his time on meds is up, I’ll be bidding him farewell.

When the call came from a coastal county about a Mississippi kite with a wing injury, I just kind of figured it was an unlucky juvenile. To my surprise, it was an adult with a broken wing. The swelling and infection were so bad, though, that I couldn’t even feel the extent of the break; he would need x-rays.

Vet Jim Hobby of Smalley’s Animal Hospital saw the kite, and the first thing we noticed on the x-ray was…a pellet. Yep, the kite had been shot. The break might be fixable but until we had the infection under control, which would help bring the swelling down, as well, there was nothing Jim could do.

The wound now smells like raw flesh, not pus, so the meds are working and later this week, the kite will go back in for Jim to reassess and determine what, if anything, we can do for the fracture.

Of course, kites are federally protected birds, making his shooting both a state and federal crime. Even though there’s no real way to determine who shot the bird, the necessary reports were sent to both Georgia DNR and USFWS, and I’ve heard back from both agencies. They’re investigating to the fullest extent they can and while I know the odds aren’t in their favor, I still hope we have a miracle and they can find and prosecute the jackass who shot this bird.

And when a bluebird enthusiast saw a snake near her nest box full of nearly ready to fledge nestlings, she ran it off after making sure it had no suspicious lumps or bulges that would indicate it had snacked on her babies, but discovered that its presence must have frightened the babies into fledging early. Only one remained near the box, unable to fly. It’s not unusual for the last hatch to be a day or two behind his sibs in development and in leaving the nest.

This little girl isn’t thrilled with her current digs. She’s old enough to know human hands shouldn’t be touching her but still a wee bit too young to fly, although she tries her best. Add to that the trauma of seeing her family attacked and scattered by a snake, and you have a very unhappy little girl. Sometimes the traumatized babies settle down; sometimes they remain distrustful.

Bluebirds are such gentle little loves that I hesitated to put her in with the larger and (usually) more aggressive blue jay. But he’d settled down and accepted that I provided food, so I thought maybe the old “monkey see, monkey do” rule might work. While she still won’t gape and doesn’t want to be handled, she has calmed down a bit, and sometimes when I go in to feed them, they’re nestled companionably next to each other—but as soon as I whip out the camera, they separate! I won’t give up that easily, though—I want a photo of these two unlikely roomies!

The Carolina wrens that came in after the Fourth have been released, but Nature do abhor a vacuum (yes, it’s grammatically incorrect but it reads funnier that way). Released three; three came in!

Here are some pix of the released three, as well as a short video clip of one of ‘em attempting to nap in the underbrush.

Hot on the heels of the Caro release, a call came in about a singleton baby in a destroyed nest. The caller said there was a snake nearby, so my guess is the snake ate this little guy’s sibs and possibly even his mother if he raided the nest at night, as this guy’s age at intake indicated Mama Wren would’ve still been brooding the babies at night.

Then, a few days later, a family was moving a deceased relative’s truck and in the grille was a nest of—you guessed it: Carolina wrens!

These babies are a few days older than the singleton but they’ve all snuggled happily together in a nest. See if you can identify the youngest Caro in the photo below—I don’t think it’s that difficult, but still…I see the little rascals every day. Give it a whirl!

No new photos or video of the poor possum this week. He’s doing well and gaining weight normally now, but I swear, I’ve never had such a messy little possum. They’re normally very clean critters, but this little guy absolutely wallows in his food. (No, I mean really—he drags his dishes into his bed and sleeps with them!) When he’s not sticky with food, he’s wet from being washed. Neither state makes for a decent photo!

The blue jay was released and hauled his feathered butt off without even a backward glance. Normally, recently released blue jays are notorious beggars, but in my experience, when they come in as fledglings, they’re much more likely to not hang around when released. The flycatcher, however, released last week if you’ll recall, is still showing up several times a day for handouts and will occasionally perch and “chat” amiably with me…

The swifts are almost ready; a few more days of building up their flight muscles and they’re outta here. It’s been surprisingly difficult to find an established colony to release them into, but I found the ideal spot on private property and have permission to release there when they’re ready. The video clip below is from earlier in the week; it’s all but impossible to manage a video now!

The barred owls are looking better after over a week now of a proper diet. One still refuses to attempt to fly; the other flits but has real difficulty with the landings. I observe this from outside but when I go into the flight pen, they try to imitate wax figures…which is a GOOD thing; it means they’re not likely to be imprinted. To be honest, I worried about that, given that they’d supposedly spent two months in someone’s bedroom.

This little cardinal nestling was found on the ground after a storm that had accompanying high winds. He has pneumonia—you can hear the crackling in his lungs—and he had pretty nasty diarrhea when he came in, which you can see in the video clip. But he’s alert, his appetite is excellent, and he’s on antibiotics.  As of today, we have no more diarrhea but the labored breathing from the pneumonia still bothers me. In the video clip you can see one of young cardinals’ more endearing habits. Watch closely after he eats, and you’ll see him lick his beak several times!

And this week’s pièce de résistance, as it were, is this nestling Mississippi kite. A tree surgeon in a neighboring county who should have known better felled the tree his nest was in, resulting in his need for rehab. (And no, I don’t know the tree surgeon’s name; no one will supply it to a vindictive rehabber set on making sure he gets fined, at the very least.) Luckily, he’s not injured, just confused about his changed environment…and mouthy. Very mouthy.

Kites are neat birds who, despite being classified as raptors, actually eat mostly insects caught while they’re flying. For those who’ve never seen this display of aerial prowess, the kite will swoop down on an airborne insect, snatch it in his talons in mid-air, and zoom back up, turning his head to eat the insect as he flies. It’s pretty darned impressive to watch, lemme tell ya!

The babies look nothing like the adults, who have stunning red eyes and feathers that deepen from pale gray on their heads to charcoal gray on their bodies to gray-black on their wings and tails. Below is a photo of an adult kite from last year, for comparison with this guy’s current coloration. Quite a difference, huh?!

Let’s lead with a departure. The screech owl was released last week and did what a small but aggressive predator should do: headed straight for the thicket, where it would be hard for a larger predator, like a barred or great horned owl, to have him for supper. This very real possibility is always a worry of mine when releasing screeches, but I was pleased with his survival instinct!

The chimney swifts I was struggling to keep alive weren’t as fortunate; one actually died and the others were in such bad shape, losing weight and not showing proper feather development, that I opted to euthanize.

However, hot on their heels came another nest of swifts, these kept for two weeks by a family reluctant to surrender them, even though they knew their possession of the birds was illegal. Apparently part of the reluctance was my insistence that they meet me at one of the “safe” areas around the county where I pick up birds, rather than allowing them to come to my house.

Let me address that issue first: folks, LWR is a home-based rehab center. That means that the rehabs and I share a roof. I don’t want strangers in and out of my house; I don’t want strangers knowing where I live; I don’t run a petting zoo where you deliver a critter or critters and get to “play” with everything else. Yes, it would be more convenient—and cheaper for me—to have birds delivered right to my doorstep, but I live in an isolated rural area, and I prefer to be safe rather than sorry, for my sake and that of the critters.  

Now to the issue of this nest of swifts…the family actually did a fairly decent job, aside from aspirating one of the babies, who died shortly after they were delivered to my care. It was actually his declining condition that finally precipitated them turning the birds over to me—not the fact that they were in violation of state and federal law.

This lot is doing quite well and exercising their wings like mad; one of the little rascals is even spending most of his time clinging to the walls of the reptarium rather than huddled with his sibs, and another of the sibs has joined him once or twice.

In the video below, I was about to change their poop-paper when the three still in the “nest” suddenly had a burst of wing-ercizing. Needless to say, the paper change waited until they were done!

The great crested flycatcher was released last week, as well, and continues to dive-bomb me for a handout several times a day. She’s occasionally joined by the goldfinch and robin released several weeks ago.

Speaking of the robin, I caught him foraging in the front yard for insects. He was a pretty busy bird!

The Carolina wrens are *thisclose* to ready for release and should be out of here by late next week, if the weather cooperates. I’m using an alternative to the flight pen for their flight conditioning, for reasons I’ll discuss in just a bit.

This fledgling blue jay was kidnapped to prevent free-roaming cats and dogs from attacking him. He’s not a happy camper and as soon as he begins self-feeding, he’ll be released—the sooner, the better from his standpoint.

The possum is still thin but gaining weight now and is self-feeding, which from this rehabber’s perspective is a wonderful thing! Unfortunately, even self-feeding, he still wears about as much as he eats, so yes, he’s wet in the photo below, because he’s had a bath to remove the formula he was wearing…

This nestling cardinal came in today, gaping and eating well…and was dead within 45 minutes of arrival. His finders said their cat alerted them to his presence Saturday evening but they didn’t think the cat ever touched the bird. However, they did leave him out overnight and he was fed one of those “Internet diets” before they got him to me, so…I don’t know what happened. Perhaps his last meal from his parents had pesticides; perhaps the “Internet diet”, while not the worst I’ve seen, did him in; perhaps the cat did have him in its mouth and he ingested cat saliva, which is toxic to wildlife, while preening. I have no clue. I hate it, as cardinals are sweet little things as youngsters, and I was looking forward to seeing this little fellow join the throngs of cardinals in my yard…

And now for the reason the wrens are in an alternative to the flight pen: last week I received a call about two young barred owls. The original tale was that the caller peripherally knew the person who’d had them for two weeks and was trying to get this person to surrender the birds to a licensed rehabber. After some back and forth, during which time I was never put into direct contact with the purported possessor of the birds, I did get them. According to the middleman, they’d been fed hot dogs and shrimp for two months, not two weeks. When I tried again to get contact information for the person who supposedly had them to get more details, I was stalled again and the middleman yet again said they’d call this person for me…The diet got even better with the next call: in addition to hot dogs and shrimp, the owls were fed salmon, tuna, and some sort of fish filet…and were kept—supposedly unrestrained—in a back bedroom. I was never able to speak to this person, leading me to doubt his actual existence, to be honest.

All I know for sure is these owls are royally screwed up. When they were started on a real raptor diet—small, frequent meals so the shock of real food didn’t kill them—their poop smelled like 100% fish oil for 24 hours. Their feathers are still ratty and oily feeling. They’re still too thin for their size. The way they held their wings made me suspect they’d never actually had the chance to fully extend them…so into the flight pen they went. It’s not an ideal solution, as it’s really designed for songbirds and maybe small raptors like screeches, but they needed to learn how to use their wings, ASAP.

Thus far—and it’s been nearly a week—they still cannot actually fly; it’s more a drunken aerial struggle before crashing. The dietary deficiencies they suffered during those two (or more—who knows?) months may have screwed them up to the point that we still end up euthanizing. Only time will tell and we’re trying to give them that time to see if proper diet and room to move can compensate for the damage done.

And finally, we have this little mystery pre-fledgling. Because I had no clue what species this is, I posted photos and video on Facebook, asking my fellow songbird rehabbers if they knew. We’re still not sure, after an all-day guessing session, but the general consensus seems to be possibly an orchard oriole. I’ve sent photos and video to Cornell’s Lab of Ornithology, as they’ve been very helpful in IDing mystery birds in the past, but it takes them a few days to respond. Meanwhile, I feel less stupid when he’s stumped my colleagues, as well!

He’s lost some weight and is not as perky as he was on intake, so he’s on antibiotics to see if we can perk him back up. If I don’t see improvement by Monday morning, I’ll run him to the vet clinic for further testing to see if we can get this little guy back on track.

First, a huge THANK YOU to everybody who donated to the LWR “We’re HUNGRY” fundraiser. I’m happy to report we slightly exceeded our goal, with a total of $2010 by June 30!

As for goals to be set—well, primarily, I’m aiming at having the screech released within the next week. While I haven’t seen him kill prey, I know he can. Ya see, it seems a wharf rat decided the top of the flight pen would be a good place to nest and have babies…and it seems the screech figured out how to get between the mesh and the hardware cloth to raid said nest…His little belly was quite full when I retrieved him from his self-made “crawlspace” and buffet! Our weather prediction looks good for most of the week, so somebody’s about ready to take his place in the big, wide world.

The possum doesn’t seem to be gaining weight like he should, even though his little belly is round and firm after each feeding. Possums tend to be skinny little things anyway, but his lack of weight gain worries me (and yes, he’s been wormed, so that’s not the issue). He also seems to be suffering from some sort of dry skin condition; the skin peels off UNDER the fur but he’s not losing actual fur. Weird…

At this stage his little life still consists of “eat, sleep, poop”, so aside from his weird issues, there’s not much else to say about him…

The oldest of the chimney swifts had to be euthanized last week. He wasn’t gaining weight; in fact, he dropped down the point that he weighed less than the smallest and least-developed swift from the nest of five.  Rather than watch him continue to decline and become more and more emaciated and sluggish, I called it on him.

The other five seem to be stable. As I said last week, chimney swifts and LWR don’t have a good history, so I refuse to be more enthusiastic. We take it a feeding at a time: so far, so good.

The great crested flycatcher gained weight like crazy last week and is flying beautifully, so as soon as she (gender arbitrarily assigned) gains a few more grams and shows me she knows how to snap insects from the air, she’ll be good to go, as well. I really do adore these sweet little birds (I know—I say that about nearly every bird that comes into LWR…); their coloration is such understated elegance.

And on an otherwise quiet July 4th, I heard a distressed baby bird in my own back yard. After locating the bird, a nestling Carolina wren, I then found the nest in the tool shed. There were three other nestlings. I replaced the wandering baby, checked on them a couple of times before dark and topped them off with a little formula each time, and went to bed that night sure that the parents were caring for their babies.

The next morning, however, I found just three babies still in the nest, lethargic and dehydrated. One looked in pretty bad shape, in fact. So now I have three more Carolina wrens who’ve perked back up considerably since being rehydrated and getting regular feedings. I still have no clue what happened to the parents or the fourth nestling, but these three will have a chance at life, at any rate.

Who doesn’t enjoy watching birds bathe? I have an old bread rack in my back yard, the top of which has three small water dishes for birds to use as bird baths; they seem to prefer them to the larger, more traditional bird bath sitting next to the rack. As luck would have it, yesterday, three of the recent releases—the robin, goldfinch and tanager—and a house finch who may have been one of my earlier releases put on a good five-minute show, and I was able to tape the whole thing, which I’m sharing with you!