Far from tapering off, things seem to be holding steady for October, with seven intakes so far for the month.

Porgy and Bess have declared their independence; Eliza still comes in at night. Mini and Albert are about two weeks from being weaned, at which time they’ll move into release phase, as well.

Mini continues to remain a tiny little thing compared to other squirrels, but she’s finally put on weight and noticeably grown, bless her little heart. Isn’t she adorable? Typical for a runt, she’s a nervous, aggressive little girl, but too cute!

Albert, aka Fat Boy, has definitely come out of his shell and is a laid-back, easygoing fellow who’s just delighted to eat nonstop. Here we have him in his daily workout - those chin-ups are pretty darned hard for a squirrel of his heft!

And who said feather season was over?? Not me! But I did expect to be receiving only injured adults for the fall and winter.

Instead, last week I received a nestling mourning dove with a wing injury - the latest I’ve ever gotten a nestling dove in to date. She’s sweetie, but the wing is troublesome. The day she came in, it was too swollen to X-ray, and when the swelling had gone down two days later and we did X-rays, they proved inconclusive. Shelley Baumann at Smalley’s said we might possibly have a broken scapula, and we both suspect this might even be a nest injury. Birds can die attempting to hatch; they can injure themselves in the process of hatching; they can have deformed legs or wings from improper positioning in the nest; their siblings can injure them in the jostling that occurs in the nest...sometimes I’m amazed that birds survive the nest at all!

At any rate, Little Dove has progressed from not using the wing at all to some limited use, so we’re watching and will probably do another X-ray next week, to see if we can get a clearer picture of what’s going on.

I also received an adult barred owl whose wing was broken. I’d talked with Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends raptor rehab on my way to Smalley’s, as wing fractures in raptors don’t always mean a death sentence. For songbirds, they generally do, as those smaller, lighter bones generally shatter, but often a raptor, with its larger bones, will have a clean break that can be stabilized until it heals. Steve recommended we try to stabilize the wing if the break was in a long bone; unfortunately, the poor owl’s wing was shattered around the "elbow." It felt like gravel under the skin, so there was nothing we could do except humanely end the bird’s life. Neither Shelley nor I were happy about that, as other than her shattered wing, the owl was in excellent physical condition.

I know some people out there are probably wondering why we didn’t amputate the shattered wing and let the owl live. Well, for starters, it’s against federal law, and even if it weren’t, stop and think about it: what quality of life can a one-winged bird have? Put yourself in that bird’s position. Imagine being "hard-wired" for flight and never being able to take to the skies again. Nope, even if the feds allowed wing amputations, I couldn’t do that to any bird. It’s a matter of quality versus quantity of life. To offer quantity of life without quality is inhumane, in my book.

I’m actually facing that quality-quantity dilemma now with an adult chimney swift who came in with only a minor abrasion on her wing. Since I was taking the dove in for her X-ray, anyway, the swift got a vet visit, too, to make sure there was no wing fracture. There wasn’t, and she seemed so very calm that Shelley and I figured head trauma - a concussion. The next day, I took the swift outside. She tensed and lifted off my hand to fly away...and hit the ground like a brick. Now we’re thinking soft tissue injury, which doesn’t show on X-rays and may or may not heal.

There are several issues to be dealt with here, foremost the fact that this little sweetheart has about a week before she’s missed her species’ fall migration. That would mean she’d need to overwinter with me, which creates another issue: swifts eat on the wing, snagging insects and devouring them while in flight. If they cannot fly, they cannot eat, so I have to force-feed this bird every hour. She’s very good about it - doesn’t struggle, eats well - but the fact remains that she’s still stressed every time I have to handle her for feeding, and the stress is causing her to lose weight. She’s lost about 2 grams since coming in Wednesday, which doesn’t seem like a lot until you realize that it’s nearly 10% of her weight of 27g upon arrival.

And yet another issue is that swifts aren’t perching birds; they cling to vertical surfaces on the rare occasions they’re not in flight, and their feet & legs aren’t designed for long-term clinging. Their tails even have spikes to aid them in clinging to vertical surfaces - isn’t that neat?! But the long-term clinging required for a non-flighted overwintering swift, or even one with limited flight ability, will cause all kinds of foot and leg problems that are usually fatal.

I’ve been in touch with a swift specialist in Atlanta and a swift rehab group in Texas, and both say that because of these factors, swifts aren’t good candidates for overwintering. Both recommend euthanasia if she cannot make the end of the fall migration.

Obviously, I’m not thrilled at that prospect, but I knew when I signed on for this gig that it entailed difficult and all-too-frequently painful decisions. It’s not about what I want; it’s about what’s best for the animals whose lives have been entrusted to me. That’s pretty much the determining factor for any action a rehabber takes: is this in the best interests of the animal under my care? Sadly, sometimes the best interests of that animal are served by taking proactive measures to forestall future suffering, even when the animal doesn’t appear to be in any current pain.

Just a heads-up in case anyone wants to read even more about LWR and how it got started. As of today, their website - www.maconmagazine.com - was still showing the Aug./Sept. issue, so keep checking their site for this month’s issue.

September turned out to be a fairly busy month, with 11 intakes - that’s more than double the "usual" number for September, based on previous years. Remember, however, that in wildlife rehab, there is no real "normal" or "usual," so I use those terms with great caution. As sure as I say "this is the norm" or "that’s the way it usually works," I can promise you that something totally unusual and abnormal will occur and I’ll be wiping egg off my face!

In yet another case of the folks at Smalley’s going beyond the call of duty, Jim Hobby worked valiantly to save a nighthawk I took in two weeks ago. The poor bird had apparently hit a barbed-wire fence in pursuit of his insect prey, and he had a deep and very nasty gash under his wing, going straight into the chest cavity. Jim looked at it, admitted that given the extent of the wound, he’d normally recommend euthanasia, and then suggested we try something that might just save the bird - surgery to suture the gash shut. As the nighthawk’s chances were nonexistent without the surgery, we opted to give it a try. Jim was very excited - as was I - that the bird made it through the surgery, but he crashed and died shortly afterward. While he didn’t survive, I’m still grateful to have vets who’re willing to try unusual and risky procedures in an attempt to save the lives of animals who have absolutely no chance otherwise.

In squirrel news, Spaz and Hildegard no longer visit, and Eliza, Porgy and Bess are in release phase now. Eliza’s been exploring outside the pen, as has Porgy. Bess still isn’t quite sure about the big, wide world. Her eye healed nicely and while it will always be a bit smaller than the left eye, she can still see with it - that’s all that matters. At right you can see a photo of Porgy and Bess while Bess’s eye was still inflamed; below is a more recent shot of her.

I also received what’s probably the smallest app. 6 week old squirrel I’ve ever seen, who was promptly named - of course - Mini. She’s about half the size she should be for her age, apparently due to malnourishment in the nest. My guess is that she was the runt of her litter, but still, I’ve never seen a runt that small! At left is a photo of her the day she came in last week; below are two shots of her, one from this weekend and the other was taken by my niece Caitlan yesterday while Mini was curled up in my hands after her feeding.

The possums have been released; at left is a shot of them as they discovered that their pen was open and they were free to go. It took them about half an hour to explore the yard and head off into the woods. Possums are little hobos; it’s very unlikely that I’ll ever see these three again.

I also received a couple of chipmunks last week, both caught by cats. Fortunately, the cat in both cases was young and the chippers weren’t harmed. I put them on antibiotics for a couple of days, just to be safe, before releasing them. Cat saliva and, to a slightly lesser extent, dog saliva are toxic to most wildlife, so I feel safer medicating a cat- or dog-attacked animal for a few days even when there’s no sign of injury.

Two of my released deer are still visiting periodically and probably will through the winter. It’s not unusual for this year’s fawns to stay with their mother through their first winter, and I’m "Mama" to these babies. Here are Bucky...

...and Junior. Junior’s a bit of a clown!

And today my father found an injured app. 6 week old male squirrel near his outside trash can. The poor fellow was bleeding so profusely from his right back leg when Daddy brought him to me that at first I thought the leg was toast. When I started cleaning him up, though, he actually had just a couple of very nasty bite wounds that I knew required stronger antibiotics than I keep on hand. So...off we headed to Smalley’s, where Peggy Hobby agreed with me that we were definitely looking at bite wounds and provided the stronger antibiotics. No photos yet of this little rascal, as he’s still a bit shell-shocked from his eventful morning, but he’s...ummm...healthy. No, let’s be honest: he’s downright chubby! So of course, the obvious name for him is....Fat Albert, which will get shortened to Albert and probably before long to Al. He’s a cutie, that’s for sure!

And finally, for your viewing pleasure, here’s a shot of a baby rat snake I found under the water dish the wild birds use as a bath. The pecan leaf next to him is for scale; he was about 6 inches long and pencil-slim. He didn’t seem real fond of the paparazzi and skedaddled pretty quickly after I "struck his likeness."