More on that question later…

“Oh, we’re all in this together because we love animals so much.” This was the gist of a statement made to me Monday when a person brought a barred owl they’d had since Saturday.  Said person works as an educator, claims to have an “exhibition” permit, and admitted to “unofficial” rehab. Would you like me to translate all that into what a rehabber hears in these words? This individual thinks because they are in education and have an exhibition permit FOR ONE ANIMAL, that gives them free rein to rehab illegally, although what little conscience they have left does remind them that “unofficial” and illegal are synonymous here—if you don’t have state and (for birds) federal permits, YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW by possessing wildlife, even if you claim it’s for rehab.

This ain’t rocket science, folks. If you want to rehab, study for the exam. Take the exam. Pass the exam. Pass the site inspection. Get your hands-on experience for birds by apprenticing under someone with current state and federal permits. That’s it in a nutshell. It can all be done in under a year if you’re motivated enough, and if you truly “love animals” enough to want the best possible training to care for them properly.

I submit to you that anyone who “loves animals” will swallow their pride and DO THE RIGHT THING for that animal by seeking properly permitted individuals to assess, treat and—if need be—rehab the animal. Anything else is just ego looking to be stroked by having all their friends coo over how “wonderful” they are when they post “cute” pictures all over social media of them and their illegally held wildlife.

The barred owl that led to this rant had a broken right leg, right at the hip. This is not a fixable fracture, so the bird required euthanasia. For TWO DAYS it sat in an unlined box, sprawled on that injured side with no cushioning, no support. TWO DAYS of pain that could’ve been ended much sooner had this person not decided their “unofficial” rehab gave them the skills (which they obviously DO NOT POSSESS in reality) to attempt treatment.
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And then they have the gall to imply “we’re all in this together because we love animals”? Oh, don’t even go there with me. Just don’t. 

And while I’m ranting, lemme tell y’all about this gem of a call: woman calls, leaves a message that her children have found a bird in the yard and she’s willing to bring it. Now, keep in mind my outgoing voicemail message CLEARLY states this may entail a one-way trip of up to two hours and if the caller isn’t willing to do this, to hang up now. I call back; woman says bird is on its side with some kind of “pink bubble gum” looking stuff coming out. My immediate thought is more than likely a cat-attacked bird whose internal organs are ripped out. I text her the address; five minutes later she calls back and says she thought I was closer (from her location, it’s about a 25-minute drive, people…) and could just I tell her how to care for the bird? After a moment of shocked silence, I explained that she’d just said it was injured so no, I could NOT tell her how to care for a bird with injuries I’d not even seen, and further, it was a violation of the terms of my permits to give that sort of care advice to the public. And she hung up on me.

Way to go, woman—what a sterling example to set for your children: Mama’s too damn sorry to drive for 25 minutes to get help for an injured bird; so we’ll sit here and watch it die instead, probably whining the whole time about how “mean” that rehabber was—and I’m willing to bet she posted all over social media about what a “good” person SHE was for trying to “help” this bird. Yeah, right…
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Two Carolina wrens survived the deaths of one of their parents and two sibs; the finder said the parent was dead outside the nest and two babies were dead inside the nest. Thus far, these two are doing well, given the stress they’ve experienced.

​When this mockingbird nestling was found in a driveway with no nest in sight, the finder attempted to move the baby to a safer location in hopes the parents would hear its cries. When that didn’t work, she brought him to LWR, where he struggled to overcome one setback after another. He put up a good fight but ultimately lost his battle, poor baby.

​And four more Carolina wrens came in after the finder noticed that the parents hadn’t been to the nest for over 12 hours and the babies were getting increasingly vocal as their hunger levels ratcheted upward. She did an excellent job of following my care instructions until I was done at the doctor’s office with my back so she could get them to LWR. They were close enough in age to be placed with the other two, so now there are six little gaping beaks at every feeding.

​Last weekend, colleague Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends had a young Mississippi kite come in, slightly older than the MIKI currently at LWR. This MIKI was rail thin and on shaky ground, so Steve called to see if I’d place him with my MIKI once he had him stabilized enough to be transferred. Since LWR is about 100 miles south of Bubba & Friends, that’s 100 miles the bird won’t have to travel when migration starts, and my MIKI needed a buddy, so…he arrived Thursday and promptly settled right in.

​Late Friday a young red shoulder came in from Animal Control in a neighboring county. The volunteer transporters who brought him said the AC claimed he had a broken leg. An intake exam revealed no fractures anywhere, just a rail-thin bird with the beginnings of frounce. I started treatment immediately and by Saturday morning he was improved enough to inhale a small mouse. 

​The red shoulder releases were delayed by my back issues, so the red tails are also still in the mini-pen. The brown thrasher went into the songbird flight long enough for me to be sure he was flying well and eating enough to be okay on his own and was subsequently released—no photos, since I open the “escape hatch” so songbirds can self-release as they feel confident enough to leave, and I wasn’t up to the quick movements required to get photos in the songbird flight.

​The wood ducklings continue to thrive. The oldest, who was an “only” for so long, is maturing rapidly and doesn’t have long before he’s ready for release. 

​The vultures visited twice this week, once as a team and once individually, so that was a pleasant surprise. I miss those rascals!

​And that brings us full-circle to the question that began this week’s update: Who rehabs the rehabber? The answer is no-damn-body. We don’t have days off, sick leave, “mental health” days and all that stuff for sissies. We work through illness, pain, exhaustion, death in the family—whatever—because the vast majority of us are home-based and have no staff…and are uncomfortable for numerous reasons about having people we don’t know well spend 12 or more hours in our homes caring for “our” critters, so we tough it out, suck it up and continue to ruin our health. This is why so few people last more than three or four years in wildlife rehab: their mental, physical and often financial health is in tatters by that point. I’d go so far as to say that only those of us who’re already pretty severely warped from the outset survive more than five years as rehabbers. (And yes, I’m still having back spasms; yes, I’ve seen a doctor; yes, I’m on meds; no, they’re not proving particularly effective, aside from making me pissier than usual; and yes, last week was hellish as a result, and this week’s not lookin’ too promisin’.)

Only four new intakes this week—never a complaint when things are on the slow side, as this late in baby season, any small lull is a godsend.

Monday a fledgling brown thrasher came in; Wednesday a mockingbird nestling came in; Thursday a pre-fledgling barn swallow; Friday a juvenile cardinal.
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The thrasher is doing well and headed for the songbird flight shortly. 

The mockingbird died overnight, to my surprise—he was alert, vocal, eating well…and died in his sleep during the night.
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The barn swallow wandered into a commercial garage and seemed unable to fly. After observation of his behavior, I believe he fledged too early, as he seems quite content to just sit in the nest—not something a fledgling will normally do.

Friday’s juvie cardie was a window strike victim who made it through her first night when her finder placed her in a box in a quiet, dark room overnight—perfect for window strike victims, to give them time to get their bearings again. When she couldn’t fly and still acted wonky the next morning,  she came to LWR, where I suspected severe head trauma and some neurological issues. She died that night.
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The mini-flight is completed and has its first occupants, the two juvenile red tails, who are quite happy to be outside.

​The screech twins have been released, but I have no videos or photos; I simply opened the raptor flight door near dusk one evening and gave them the option of freedom. They were out of there before dark. The next morning, I placed the red shoulder trio in the raptor flight.

They’ll be ready for release within another week or so, freeing the raptor flight for the red tails and the mini-flight for the MIKI.
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The wood ducklings have graduated to the actual tub for their swims and are having a blast.

Two of the Carolina wrens survived and are ready for the songbird flight. I tried all week for photos of them but not one of them turned out worth using. Maybe once they’re in the songbird flight…
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The MIKI is growing like a weed—just look at the feather development in the past week! To give you an idea of just how much keratin they preen off their feathers daily, the photo of what looks to be a pile of salt and pepper is actually half a day’s worth of keratin preened from his feathers and in the bottom of his nest when I changed his paper.

​And, of course, the juvie black vultures supervised the final stages of construction on the mini-flight. I told AJ I didn’t know how we would’ve managed without their expert supervision. Enjoy these photos of the silly rascals; as soon as their expertise was no longer needed, they stopped coming around. I’ve seen them twice since then, and one of those times they were with three other vultures, who flew away as “my” two flew down to me. “They’s all growed up now!”

​This week’s update is short—pulled a muscle in my lower back somehow and sitting at the computer for too long causes it to spasm. It was late this afternoon before I could tolerate sitting here at all, so…enjoy this little bit while I grab the bottle of ibuprofen!

Last week was quite busy at LWR, with an influx of songbirds, only one new raptor, and a building project begun.

The “star” of the week was an adorable Mississippi kite, aka MIKI (abbreviation used by ornithologists), who was taken away from a dog. The rescuer had no idea where the nest was located, so wee MIKI will now grow up at LWR. It’s MIKI nesting time, so others will be likely arriving over the rest of the month. In the meantime, ya gotta admit, there’s very little cuter than a baby raptor!

A mockingbird fledgling was also dumped at LWR after the finder kept it for 4 days and decided feeding a baby bird was too much trouble. At least they had the common sense to feed it insects and not give it water… No photos; I just realized I didn’t take any of the mocker, and the lights are off on the babies for the night.
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A dog-attacked robin fledgling arrived breathing heavily, with a badly mauled wing, a ruptured air sac, blood on his belly and a watery, swollen eye. He didn’t survive the night.

​A juvenile male cardinal who likely struck a window looks to have a coracoid fracture; his wing droops slightly at the shoulder, which is typical of such a fracture. He’s too active for a still photo; here’s a short video.

​Friday afternoon four nestling Carolina wrens were found in a car about to be crushed. A last-minute check by an employee for anything that needed to be removed prior to crushing the car resulted in these babies being brought  to LWR Saturday morning. So far, so good, although the runt may be iffy. We’ll see…

And when her neighbor’s lawn care service blew down a nest of baby birds and planned to leave them to die, a young woman in the metro Atlanta area scooped them up, called all the listed rehabbers for the metro area, and ended up bringing the poor babies some 150 miles one way to LWR Saturday. They appear to be barn swallows, although again, the runt is struggling.

​Rounding out Saturday, a fledgling blue jay was rescued from an imminent dog attack and is now at LWR.  

​Rain chances of over 50% most of last week nixed the planned screech release, so that’s now slated for this week, as rain chances are in the more acceptable 10-20% range. They’re both antsy, so the sooner we can release, the better.

​That will free up the raptor flight for the red shoulder trio, and the red tails will go in LWR’s newest structure, a mini-flight that will serve as a holding pen of sorts for birds who need more room to stretch their wings when the raptor flight is full. Volunteer AJ Rogers realized this was a need for LWR and drew up the plans, purchased the materials and did the bulk of the work on this 4x8 foot mini-flight. I assisted where I could, but the bulk of the work on this is AJ’s. We should finish it up tomorrow, or that’s the plan at the moment, anyway.

The Cooper’s hawk dropped dead. I mean, literally. Coops are prone to—I dunno how to describe it—apoplectic seizures or something when stressed, and after this poor gal slid down a tree on her release attempt the previous week, she was majorly stressed. She literally keeled over face-first, feet still clutching the perch.

The wood ducks are growing steadily; the older is getting some nice color on his wings—and the color does make me think he’s really a male. I meant to video them swimming every day last week and got sidetracked every day, so…next week!
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The juvie black vultures are still bringing friends into the yard; this week started with a youngish turkey vulture and ended with an adult black vulture. Of course, they also had to supervise the mini-flight construction and assist with water for the wood ducks, who will soon be too big for their little swimming tub that makes capturing them to remove them from the water so much easier…

And finally, the promised—or threatened, take yer pick—rant, beginning with the reason for it…

Today a call came in from a neighboring county. Some person had an egret—they thought. They’d had it since Friday and had taken it to their vet, who’d given it an antibiotic injection and then broke the law by returning it to the individual (vets in GA are allowed to treat wildlife but are supposed to confiscate it if brought in by the public, and call a rehabber to take it). Said individual had been feeding the poor bird tilapia and SARDINES. The tilapia’s fine; the sardines will end up killing the bird from the sheer salt content. I explained all this to the individual, who then asked, “Are you qualified to treat birds?”

I paused a looong moment while I bit my tongue, since the person had apparently not listened to my voicemail message—in which just about every other word is ‘birds’—despite leaving me a message. Then I replied, “I have state and federal permits for bird rehab.”

I don’t have the egret as of tonight and will be reporting this person tomorrow, giving them the benefit of the doubt until then. But I don’t expect to see the bird.
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Meanwhile, this is what I wanted SO badly to tell this person but didn’t because I knew they’d hang up mid-rant:
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Here are my qualifications for “treating” birds:

• I have state and federal songbird and raptor rehab permits.
• I have 20 years of hands-on experience, 15 of it under my own permits.
• I had to pass a state exam and serve apprenticeships with licensed songbird and raptor rehabbers in order to meet the federal requirements for a permit.
• My facilities are regularly inspected by GA DNR. Both DNR game wardens and FWS agents have the legal right to inspect my premises at any reasonable hour, with no advance notice, and because I have nothing to hide, representatives of both agencies know they’re welcome at any time.
• I have the trust and respect of the game wardens and FWS agents throughout the state that I’ve had dealings with.
• I have vets with wildlife training and experience who volunteer their services to ensure the wildlife under my care receives the very best care possible.
• I have a worldwide network of colleagues I can call upon for advice, assistance or just to vent.
• I continue yearly to add to my knowledge of best practices, through study, rehabber groups, etc., so that the services I provide to the wildlife under my care reflect the current best practices in the field.

 
And you, caller who feeds sardines to a wild bird—what are YOUR qualifications to even breathe the same air as my precious birds?

As in more intakes, one release, and them what’s still hangin’ ‘round…
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Starting last week with a bang, as it were, a window-strike Cooper’s hawk came in on Monday. As y’all are by now aware, Coops are psychotic, high-strung birds. It took a couple of days for this gal’s swollen eye to go down, then the threat of rain delayed her release, and when we finally tried to “git ‘er gone” earlier today, she flew straight into a tree and bounced onto the ground on her back. Needless to say, she’s back at LWR…

​Hot on her heels, on Tuesday a late nestling brown thrasher came in from a vet clinic in a neighboring county. He was brought in by one of their clients after being found covered with ants. One of their vet techs brought him to LWR after she got off work.  He’s on antibiotics for the ant bites and is up and down.

​Later that day, FIVE wood ducklings came in after being found in someone’s yard with no mother in sight. These babies still had egg teeth on their beaks. One of them had been roughed up by the finder’s dogs and died shortly after intake, and one died a couple of days after arriving at LWR. Wood ducklings are high-stress little birds, so honestly, some attrition is always expected with them. It’s never pleasant but it’s expected. The remaining three have adopted the older wood duck already at LWR as a surrogate mother, much to that poor bird’s consternation. S/he walks around with one or more in tow, looking at me like, “What’s goin’ on here?”

​On the Fourth, a sopping wet young barred owl came in after being found in a pool. Once he dried out, rain threats also delayed his release until today.

The next day, a fledgling blue jay came in, already agonal breathing and stone cold. He’d wandered up to his finders on the evening of the third and his finders assumed his parents would come back for him the next morning—which is a valid assumption; fledglings aren’t abandoned by their parents. The fact that a supposedly wild fledgling just wandered up to these folks sends up all kinds of red flags for a rehabber, though—it honestly sounds like someone tried to raise the bird illegally and then dumped him, for him to wander to the nearest humans he saw for help.
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At any rate, the folks he wandered up to placed him back outside on the Fourth and monitored the situation; by that evening, he was still alone, so they took him back in and offered him an emergency diet of blueberries—not a horrible option for an older bird. They called LWR and left a message but Verizon didn’t deliver their voicemail until early on the fifth—gotta love the non-service we all too often get from these cell phone providers, considering the ungodly fees they charge.  By the next morning when I actually got their message, he wasn’t in good shape, and he didn’t last too long after arrival.

And yesterday, this baby was delivered to LWR after a storm in a neighboring county knocked his nest from the tree. His finder said all his sibs were killed either on impact or by ants and yellow jackets. He’s still a bit iffy, but fingers are crossed. Can you guess the species? Here’s a hint: “nekkid as a…” (For you non-Southerners and for those Southerners who’ve been too corrupted by a steady diet of TV and/or who’re in denial of their rich Southern heritage, I’ll provide the answer at the end of the update.)

​The red tails were briefly roomies, but I worried that the slightly older of the two was hogging all the food, so I separated them again.

The screech twins should be ready for release by mid-week, freeing the raptor flight for the red shoulder trio.

​The vultures are still hanging around, usually up to shenanigans due to their natural intelligence and inquisitiveness. I have to say they’ve been the highlight of the 2019 baby season thus far!

​(The mystery baby above is a blue jay; the expression is “nekkid as a jaybird.” Now you know why!)