Last week was slowish, with no new intakes. Given that this is migration season, when intakes are likely to be injured, often fatally, I’m certainly not complaining about a slow week!
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The hummer continues to hum along, nosy and perky but still unable to fly. Each passing week of migration comes closer to sealing his fate, but we’ll keep giving him a little more time.

Unfortunately, the cattle egret developed severe neurological problems, leading me to believe his inability to stand was from a spinal cord injury that was exacerbated by his attempts to stand. This is not something we could have seen on his x-rays; soft-tissue or nerve damage doesn’t show on x-rays. He was humanely euthanized to end his suffering.
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The cat-attacked dove is now in the flight pen and is flitting about—if you can call a dove’s explosive flight “flitting”—like a pro. As soon as the weather permits, he’ll be released.

​The screeches are still riding the gravy train…Rotten little rascals! We’re working on the catching live prey thing, but they’re quite happy right now to have shelter from the inclement weather and a reliable food supply…and given that I want them to have the very best chance possible at survival after release, I’m in no hurry to shove them out of the “nest.” 

And for those of you who have feeders in your yards, if you’ve been experiencing any of the “fallout” rain associated with the remnants of Hurricane Patricia, keep those feeders full and dry. Your regular visitors will appreciate it; migrating visitors will be even more grateful. In fact, this is good advice for any time you have rainy days—keep those feeders clean and dry​—and full!

Most of you know from firsthand experience or from reading this blog that possession of wildlife without a permit is against state—and in the case of birds, federal—law. You’re also aware that wildlife rehabbers don’t receive salaries from state, federal, city or county governments, i.e., we volunteer our time and expertise.

So what’s a rehabber to do when some jackass calls, says they have a bird and then refuses to bring it to said rehabber, or to meet them anywhere—and then even starts changing their tale as to who actually has the bird?
Believe it or not, this just happened not once but twice in the same day. Caller one, Saturday afternoon, had an owl, probably a screech, possibly with a broken leg. I offered to meet him later that afternoon, and he hedged—could we meet Sunday morning? Sure, no problem.

Caller two, late Saturday night, had a red tailed hawk, so identified by the deputy who told them to call DNR, who referred them to me. Since I was already slated to meet one person Sunday morning, but in a different direction, I told this caller I could meet them either before or after the owl pickup. She opted for after, so we set the time and place and I told her to call me to confirm the hawk made it through the night, as she kept saying it was really lethargic.

This morning, I head out to meet owl guy but he’s not at the designated spot. I’m a little early, so no worries, right? I call to let him know where I’m parked, leave a message when he doesn’t answer, and call hawk lady, as I’ve not heard from her yet.

Hawk lady claims she sent the owl to her father, and asks if I can come pick it up, in the same breath. Did you listen to my voicemail message last night, lady? I don’t drive all over the southern half of Georgia to pick up animals. I can’t do that and properly care for the ones I currently have under care. Then she calls her father on another line, while still on the phone with me, and informs me that the bird is still alive and gives me her brother’s phone number and her father’s address. I call; no answer. I report this to DNR and while I’m on the phone with them, getting connected to the game warden for that region (not my local game wardens), I get a text message from owl guy.

Owl guy “forgot” to call me and tell me he couldn’t make it this morning; could we “try again” tomorrow? As soon as we had hawk lady and family under investigation, I texted owl guy back, saying that I was at our designated meeting spot and it would’ve been nice if he’d called before I’d wasted time and gas on a fruitless trip.

His response? “I’m sure you’ll get over it.” No mention of attempting to get the owl to me. Nothing.

As (bad) luck would  have it, owl guy is also in the other law enforcement region, so I call the poor fellow back and now he’s got two idiots to deal with on a Sunday. You know, it’s not like these folks don’t bust their butts doing their jobs; they do. They’re dedicated, understaffed and overworked, and I hate adding to their burden, especially on nights/weekends. But the terms of my permits require that I report suspected criminal activity, and guess what? Possession of wildlife without a permit IS A CRIME.

The Good Samaritan law covers anyone who finds and rescues wildlife for 24 hours—time enough to locate a rehabber and get the wildlife to them. You’re not breaking the law when you rescue orphaned, injured or ill wildlife—AS LONG AS YOU GET IT TO A LICENSED REHABBER WITHIN 24 HOURS. 

Wildlife is NOT some sort of “show and tell” exhibit to impress your neighbors and Facebook friends; it takes the right training and skills to properly care for these critters—and if you suspect the animal is ill or injured, WHY would you want to hold it any longer than it took to find someone who could assess its injuries/illness and begin treatment immediately? Do these people ENJOY watching wildlife suffer due to their depraved indifference? Folks, that’s just cruel and unusual, and I’m gonna be totally honest and state that I fervently hope the Karma Fairy visits these two individuals and repays them in droves for their callous disregard for the welfare of these birds.

Now excuse me while I step off my soapbox…

The weirdness of this week didn’t just gang up LWR on the weekend; we had a couple of strange situations earlier in the week, as well. A caller from a neighboring county had a Northern flicker that, from her description as lethargic and docile, sounded ill. She found it by her vehicle tire and it didn’t move when she approached. Yeah, not sounding good, so we agree to meet.

The bird is in a pet carrier and looks to me to be alert and antsy—ready to go. I’m not seeing an issue, so I ease the door open juuuust enough to wedge my hand in and grab him for transfer to one of my boxes. He squeezes by my hand and through the tiny opening and flies off with absolutely no problem. Then the finder informs me that he “might” have hit her office window, as the car was parked near the office. *sigh* Had this info been offered to begin with, I could’ve told her to keep the bird quiet, cool and in a darkened room for a couple of hours and then offer him his freedom.

For future reference, folks, when you suspect an adult bird is a windowstrike victim—grounded, woozy/lethargic, maybe on its side or back, allows human contact—place it in a box (that has not previously held chemicals, air fresheners, etc.) and put the box in a dark, cool, quiet place for an hour or two. If the bird seems alert at that point, open the box and see if it can fly away; if not, call your local rehabber ASAP, as there’s obviously more than a concussion going on there.

And then we had the folks who found an adult great horned owl hanging by its feet from a vine/fence/vine-covered fence—that was never real clear to me. He seemed docile and weak and couldn’t hold his head up, etc., so again, we agreed to meet. While I gloved up they opened the cage, and I saw…a dead bird. I informed them he was dead, and they were aghast; he’d been alive but in poor shape when they left home.

I took the carcass to dispose of it; before disposal, I examined the bird. No fractures that I could locate; thin but not starvation-thin, but dark blood draining from the beak…I’m betting that owl was a victim of rodenticide poisoning. Folks, rat bait and bait stations are DEADLY to unintended victims. When a raptor eats a rodent that has ingested rodenticide, the raptor dies too. Please, PLEASE don’t use that stuff.

The hummer is fine; I just forgot to get any new photos this week. His fate is still very uncertain, however, and it’s probably not going to end well for him since he’s still unable to fly.
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But look at the new feather growth on the cat-attacked mourning dove! He did succeed in knocking out his sole remaining tail feather, but that won’t affect him as far as being placed in the flight pen this week.

​This cattle egret was found near a road; his rescuer thought he’d been hit by a car. Thanks to the ever-efficient vets and staff at Smalley’s Animal Hospital, who worked me in 10 minutes before they closed for lunch, I was able to get x-rays within minutes of picking up this young egret. Vet Richie Hatcher and I agreed that an old wing fracture that had healed in the wild and a badly bruised knee shouldn’t be long-term issues, but the egret couldn’t stand. X-rays showed no fractures, so we suspect soft tissue and/or nerve damage. He’s an alert fellow and while he won’t self-feed, he eagerly inhales the food I’m hand-feeding him, so we’re just gonna give him some time and see what develops. He’s already attempting to stand, as of yesterday, but he ends up head-down, butt-up before sprawling back on his side. Hey, it’s progress, however slight.  “E” for effort, buddy!

​And the screeches need just a little more time before release. The predatory instinct is there; the skill, however, is still somewhat under-developed.  We’re not gonna rush them; I want them to be fully skilled hunters before they’re released.

Folks, I don’t know how many times I’ve stressed this here, posted articles on Facebook detailing the dangers to both cats and wildlife when cats are allowed to free-roam, lectured people who bring me cat-attacked wildlife…and yet it still happens. I still get cat-attacked critters, and there’s just NO excuse for it. None.

This gorgeous mourning dove—and doves are among the gentlest, most easily stressed songbirds—was attacked by a cat. He was lucky (and yes, he’s male—the males tend to have a bluish head and rosy throat; the females tend to have a brownish head and throat) in that he “only” lost all but one of his tail feathers and most of the feathers on the right side of his body, along with sustaining several nasty-looking but superficial gashes. His luck continued with discovery by someone who cared enough to seek help for him and volunteers who transported him to LWR so we could begin medicating him immediately. Recall, if you will, that cat saliva and claws contain bacteria designed to break down flesh, so cat bites or scratches left untreated on wildlife result in death, usually within 48 hours.
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Fortunately, this sweet fellow is doing well, albeit confined to a small cage to prevent stress injuries—mourning doves stress easily and will pace, slam their bodies into the cage and even self-mutilate if the stress levels get too high. As soon as he’s off meds, he’ll go into the songbird flight until there’s sufficient feather re-growth to allow for release.

And that brings me back to my rant. People, I submit to you that if you allow your cat to roam freely, you a) care nothing about our native wildlife and b) care very little about your cat and are NOT a responsible cat owner.

Why do I say that? Well, on the first point, numerous studies have proven that free-roaming outside cats wreak unholy havoc on our native wildlife—and don’t you DARE give me the old “my cat doesn’t hunt” trope. It’s a bald-faced lie. Cats are predators. It’s their nature to hunt—and well-fed housecats are more successful hunters than strays because they’re not as desperate for food.

On the second point, let’s look at the dangers a free-roaming cat faces, shall we? It’s easier just to list those dangers:

• Being hit by car
• Being poisoned, intentionally or accidentally
• Being shot, maimed and/or tortured by the psychopathic little bastards who comprise all too large a portion of our population
• Being attacked by larger predators such as dogs, coyotes and even great horned owls. Yeah, a great horned owl can tote off a 9-pound cat.
• Being in fights with other cats, resulting in wounds that abscess (see bacteria, above…)
• Exposure to the elements: rain, heat, cold
• Exposure to and infestation with parasites such as roundworms, ear mites and God-knows-what else

It’s a widely-cited statistic that outdoor or indoor-outdoor cats have significantly shorter lives, managing to survive around 4 years on the average. An indoor-only cat, on the other hand, can live up to 25 years.
There are numerous ways to keep an indoor-only cat entertained, and the Internet is bursting with blueprints for “catios” if you insist that your cat MUST have access to the outdoors.

I cannot stress enough: KEEP YOUR DAMN CATS INSIDE AND AWAY FROM WILDLIFE! It’s safer for all concerned.

And for the record, as I’ve said on numerous occasions, I love cats. I have three cats of my own. I also love wildlife. For the safety of both the wildlife around my house and my cats, my moggies are indoor-only. None of them seems deprived or unhappy; on the contrary, they’re cool in the summer and warm in the winter, have constant access to plentiful fresh food and water, altogether too many toys…

It IS possible to love cats and wildlife, and it IS possible to have both in your life—as long as you take appropriate measures to ensure the safety of both.

Okay, off the soapbox now…
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It’s pretty definite the hummer’s not gonna make migration. That wing hasn’t healed to allow for flight, as you can see in the photos below, and hummers generally aren’t good candidates for educational birds because when they’re unflighted, they’re prone to develop foot and leg problems. Their tiny little legs and feet aren’t meant for long periods of perching.  

​The screeches will be live-prey tested this week, as the weather forecast is looking good for a potential release if they pass the live-prey test. Meanwhile, they all congregate at one end of the flight when I walk in to feed them, and then as I’m putting the food out, the female, who’s the nosiest and most aggressive of the three, perches above my head, waiting to snag her mouse as soon as I walk away. Cheeky little bugger! 

In keeping, I suppose, with the Halloweenish focus of the month on death, blood and gore, LWR experienced a bit of each last week. It’s that time of year. Our intakes drop with the end of baby season, but much of what we do see will be injured, usually badly and all too often fatally.
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The male hummer died during the night last week, leaving what I’d assumed was a female on her own. However, as you can see in the last pic below, SHE actually looks to be a HE—see that little spot of red? It just became noticeable last week.

​And as I suspected, the barred owl’s injuries were indeed fatal. However, it wasn’t the wrist that was broken. The elbow was badly dislocated, with the bones almost breaking through the skin, and this caused the wrist bones to fall out of alignment, as well. 

​This great blue heron came in with a leg fracture, open but a clean break. He was alert and the wound was fresh and still bleeding, so I really thought we might have a chance at fixing this guy. Since he came in after hours for Smalley’s Animal Hospital, I made him comfortable for the night and planned to take him in the next morning to see what we could do. Unfortunately, he succumbed to either shock or internal injuries—or maybe both—during the night.

​The screeches are still awaiting a live prey test and the onset of decent weather. It’s been rainy here all week, and as for the live prey, no one sells live mice locally so I have to rely on what I catch in the “humane” traps (seems to be a misnomer in my case, as I use ‘em to live-prey test raptors!)…and so far, nothing…

Yeah, I probably overdid the screech pix this week, but they’re so damn cute…and after a bloody, deadly week, we all deserve a healthy dose of cute.
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Hopefully this week will be less deadly…and if the rehab gods see fit, this rehabber wouldn’t mind a flying squirrel or three—it’s that time of year for them, as well!