The red shoulder with the hand fracture was fine at lights-out last Sunday and dead the next morning—no clue as to why. He was alert, eating well and energetic…and then he was dead.
The nuthatch followed a similar scenario: fine, alert, eating, dead. Again, no clue as to why.
Last week’s mourning dove apparently had some sort of rupture or something overnight, as when I went to feed him Tuesday morning, he was gasping for breath with blood oozing from his mouth. Obviously, I euthanized the poor bird to end his suffering. Again, we have the frustration of not knowing what happened—he had been fine at lights-out the previous night.
The cat-attacked nestling mocker didn’t respond to treatment; he rallied a bit and then died overnight, as well.
And this tiny little hatchling, species uncertain, was found on a porch. Based on the rescuers’ descriptions of the bird’s general physical condition, I thought the poor little baby had a chance: no hard, swollen belly, no bruising, gaping—all sounded promising. And when the bird came in, their descriptions were accurate, and it ate well and pooped normally, so I was quite hopeful. At 1:30AM the baby was sleeping and breathing normally, but by 7:30AM the poor little thing had died.
Last week’s brown thrasher is now in the flight pen.
The leg trap GHO is due for follow-up x-rays as soon as I can manage to get him to Smalley’s—I’m trying to wait till most of the remaining inside songbirds have “graduated” to the flight pen, so I have fewer additional birds along for the ride because they can’t miss feedings. Once they’re in the flight pen, they’re doing a fair amount of self-feeding, so trips to the vet for other birds become less of a massive logistical nightmare.
The downy GHOs are, well, not so downy these days. They’re feathering out beautifully.