We had quite a few releases this week, with an equal number of intakes (eight of each), and the nestling Mississippi kites (MIKIs) are starting to arrive—three this week.
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This adorable robin—you know how I love any member of the thrush family—came in Monday after being found in someone’s back yard with no nest in sight. He’s matured rapidly and is ready for the flight pen next week, as is the mocker he’s currently housed with.  No photos of the mocker; again this week we’re pretty much focusing on the new intakes and releases.

​The very next day two nestling Mississippi kites (MIKIs) came in, also found grounded a few counties away, with no nest in sight. Neither was thrilled at their new environs but both settled down nicely after a meal.

A third MIKI came in Saturday from south of LWR but I didn’t snap a photo of him—just plopped him in with his new sibs, where he promptly showed them what “food aggression” meant. They’re all three content as long as the food keeps coming.
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This first-year red shoulder was found by the roadside but given his emaciated state, I don’t think he was hit by car. He was starving on intake and despite frequent small meals that he kept down, he died just over 24 hours later. There’s a certain threshold and once they’re past that, all the efforts in the world just can’t pull them back, sadly.

​And these two nestling Carolina wrens were found in a vehicle motor after it had been moved. Caros are stressy little birds, as you well know by now, but thus far these two sweet babies are doing well.

​This adult GHO was transferred from UGA’s wildlife clinic to LWR for continued care and—we hope—eventual release. His right eye is pretty messed up—detached retina—and he has a coracoid fracture that the UGA vets are reasonably sure will heal for flight. I’m awaiting the x-rays so I can see for myself what we’re dealing with; they’re sending me copies next week. According to their paperwork, the bird was found outside their clinic in a box earlier this month.

​In a reversal of plans, the fledgling Coop went into the raptor flight first. As you may remember, Coops are psychotic little birds, and he was going stir-crazy inside, so I opted to get him in the flight pen first so he can be released before he pulls some Coop shenanigan like breaking his own fool neck by flying full-speed into the flight pen wall.

​In releases, all the flyers were soft-released over several days last week—their choice as to when they left. Below are the last photos of them, taken as I checked the box each morning to see who was left.

​The red-headed woodpecker, after most of the week in the songbird flight, was released. Unlike red bellies, red-headeds don’t seem to hang around after release. 

The kingbird was also released after most of the week in the songbird flight, and she hung around for a couple of days but I haven’t seen her today.

​The adult red tail was released—no video but a couple of fairly decent post-release photos.

​And the sharpie made no bones about being glad to “get shed” of human contamination!

Surprisingly, the week of the Fourth saw only three new intakes: an adult Mississippi kite (MIKI), a juvenile red shoulder hawk and a nestling mocker.
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The MIKI had a broken wing; it felt like it was right at the shoulder. X-rays confirmed this wasn’t a break we could fix, sadly. MIKIs are gorgeous birds with really good personalities. He was euthanized.

​The red shoulder’s wing was basically bare bone with just enough skin left to keep most of the feathers in place. He reeked of necrotic tissue and required euthanasia, as well.

​The mocker was found, nest next to him, in the middle of a field after a storm with high winds. He was *thisclose* to fledging before the storm did a Wizard of Oz on him.

​The grackle was released and is still coming down for handouts; the jays have pretty much stopped showing up now.

​The red-headed woodpecker with the damaged leg did require euthanasia; his sib is doing quite well and should go into the songbird flight next week.

​The Eastern kingbird is also ready for the songbird flight.

I’m hobbling around well enough now that the GHO will get his long-awaited turn in the raptor flight as well. The sharpie and adult red tail are slated for release mid-week—the sharpie should have gone last week but driving proved more problematic than I expected. That will leave the fledgling red shoulder, the fledgling screech and the fledgling Coop awaiting their flight time, and the swallow-tail kite still waiting for that wing to mend. No new photos of any of them—how many different poses can they manage in their boxes, right?

Now, I want to hop on my soapbox for a moment. Yesterday LWR received a call about chimney swifts. My first advice is always, always place them back in the fireplace, put up your fire screen or a piece of cardboard  to keep the parents from flying out into your living room, and see if the parents come down to feed. I’d say a good 98% of the time this works. Swifts are excellent parents. This caller was in the 2% where it didn’t work.

The caller also had a bum foot and couldn’t bring the birds to LWR, so I referred them to WREN, a volunteer transport network, and they had it all arranged in under 10 minutes. Then the transport coordinator texted me that the birds would NOT, in fact, be coming to LWR because the caller had allowed their indoor cat in the same room with the helpless babies, and the cat did what cats do—killed all the babies.
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People. Folks. C’mon. Let’s use a little common sense here. If you have orphaned or injured wildlife in your house, however briefly, ISOLATE IT from your household pets. The sheer stress of captivity is already placing a huge burden on that wildlife, and then you want to expose it to cats or dogs that it sees as predators? And if you’re not careful you end up like this caller did, finding that your precious Fluffy or Fido just ate all the babies you stayed up all night to monitor. Family pets and orphaned/injured wildlife DO NOT mix. Place the wildlife in a spare bedroom or bathroom or even on a screened-in porch. Use your head for something besides a hat rack, okay?

This week was fairly busy, with seven releases and several intakes, as well: one particularly infuriating intake—not the bird itself but the circumstances.
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First off, the blue jays are released but still showing up to double-team me for handouts. Not a problem, as I adore blue jays!

​And all five barred owls were released—got short videos of four of them (but YouTube keeps rejecting the first release vid—no clue why); the fifth took off like a shot before I could even focus the camera!

​Not the greatest shot in the world of the grackle, but you can see the growth since last week, and he’s flying beautifully now, as well, so a release is in his very near future.

A second grackle came in late this week, about a week younger than the fellow above, but he’s having issues standing—nothing broken, everything seems to work, but he’ll just list to the side randomly. He’s currently “nesting” with a mocker, for which I apologize to him profusely at every feeding… No pix of these two; just slipped my mind.
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These red-headed woodpecker nestlings were found after a storm felled the tree their nest was in. One was caught in a crevice and hanging upside down. His little leg looks pretty rough. Nothing is broken but there does seem to be nerve or soft-tissue damage. We’re giving him time to see what happens.

​The adult GHO the game warden brought week before last did indeed have a nasty fracture. It was not fixable, as it was right in the joint. He was euthanized.

​This gorgeous swallow-tail kite was somewhat luckier. I knew his wing was broken on intake; I just wasn’t sure how bad the fracture was. When we x-rayed in at Smalley’s, we discovered the reason for the fracture was a pellet. Vet Peggy Hobby and I were furious that anyone would shoot this gorgeous creature, and I will tell you now there’s a special place in hell for the jackass who did. The state and feds have been notified but since he was found on a rural road, the chances of discovering who shot him are slim to none. The good news is Peggy’s fairly sure the bone will heal for flight. He’s the first swallow-tail I’ve had, that I can remember.

​As far as older guests, the GHO who came in as an eyes-closed downy baby is ready for the flight pen as soon as I can get him out there. I broke my foot when I released the barreds, so I’m limiting my walking as much as possible for a while.

​The sharpie is good for release and since the release site is on a rural road I can drive to the release site safely with my bum foot; the goal is to release him this week.

​The red shoulder who came in as a starving fledgling is hale and hearty now and ready for the raptor flight after the GHO finally gets his turn.

​The probable Coop is looking and sounding pretty darn “Coopy” now.

​And finally, while this sweet one came in early in the week, I’ve saved him for last because he’s just so adorable.

​This, folks, is an Eastern kingbird, a member of the flycatcher family. He was a nestling on intake; he’s getting ready to fledge now, just five days later—that gives you an idea of how rapidly songbirds mature—that’s why proper nutrition from the get-go is essential.  He’s the first very young kingbird I remember having, and I’ve been totally captivated by him. Flycatchers as a rule have the sweetest personalities anyway, and then he had all that raptor-like down on intake, which he’s losing now…he’s just precious!

So maybe I’m still not the most emotionally stable person right now, but honestly, this week saw its share of sheer idiocy.

First off, a caller originally had four Carolina wrens; they’d been fed cat food every few hours for four days and the person waited till one was dead and another dying before deciding to bring the birds to LWR. One of the surviving three was dying on arrival; the other two were dead within three hours.

Folks, first off, baby birds MUST be fed every half hour. Period. Second, while cat food is an acceptable EMERGENCY diet, it should NOT be used for more than 24 hours. Nutritional deficiencies will start to kick in after that, and may be irreversible.

Then a call came in about another set of what I figured was Caros, as well—recent hatchlings. The caller couldn’t get them to LWR till after work, so I carefully explained keeping them in a warm place and giving them tiny bits of cat food every half hour. To this person’s credit, they did try; the intellect just wasn’t there. The birds, Caros as I thought, were tiny ice cubes floating in cat food juice when they arrived. They barely made it overnight.

And then we had the purple martin who’d been fed dog food for TWO WEEKS before a miracle occurred and the finder was able to locate LWR. By this time, there was nothing I could do. The bird had MBD (severe calcium deficiency) so bad he couldn’t stand up; his attempts at wing-waving to beg for food were little shimmies close to the body, and the inside of his beak was near-white. He didn’t last the night.
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Contrast this, however, with the people who found a nestling/almost fledgling grackle in their yard and had it to LWR within the hour. He’s in the flight pen with his awkward, ungainly, loveable self.

​And when this near-fledgling martin was found on the ground, his finders wasted no time getting him to LWR; he’s also in the songbird flight.

​The caller who found these Carolina wrens also called immediately; the runt didn’t make it but he was looking rough on intake—probably hatched a day or so after his sibs and just couldn’t keep up.

The big news this week, however, isn’t really even a proper intake, as it’s from my own yard—or my parents’ yard, more accurately. I’m still spending most of my time with Mama at the moment, so when we heard Daddy’s elderly dog barking late yesterday, it was a little odd; he seldom barks anymore. When I walked out he was circling something that initially looked like a bullfrog from a distance but when I got closer I could see he had a hognose snake, aka puffing adder, cornered. The dog will kill a snake, so I ran to grab gloves and snagged the dog by the collar with one hand as I snatched the poor hognose up with the other and held him above my head to keep the dog from snapping at him.

Hognose snakes aren’t as common as they used to be; in fact, the Southern hognose is considered a vulnerable population. I’m lousy at differentiating between the two, but my rescue looked like an Eastern to me.

These are snakes I utterly adore. They’re nonvenomous, small, nonaggressive—although they’ll spread those heads flat like a cobra in a threat display—and play dead when threatened. What’s not to love?
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Below are some photos of this adorable fellow, and a less-than-stellar video of him playing dead and then slithering away as he realized the coast was clear. I took him to a safer location for release, away from elderly marauding dogs.

​More on the “ongoing” LWR guests next week; time is short this week and I’m juggling editing deadlines, feeding birds, and fielding calls on injured/orphaned birds.

DNR seemed determined to get my mind off this first Father’s Day without Daddy, with two visits from game wardens bookending the day. The first visit brought a sharpie, probably HBC; the second brought an adult great horned owl with a broken wing.

The sharpie doesn’t appear to have any fractures but showed some signs of head and/or spinal trauma. On intake he was unable to stand properly and had little reflex in his feet; by tonight he was standing and acting much more alert.

The GHO’s elbow is massively swollen, which I’m afraid is masking a really nasty fracture.  We’ll see as soon as I can get x-rays.

The starving fledgling red shoulder from a couple of weeks ago is looking great and self-feeding.

Last week’s downy hawk is probably a Coop. In addition to not being as mouthy as a red shoulder, he just looks “Coopy”—i.e., insane.

The screech continues to grow apace and would like to be in the raptor flight, as soon as space is available.

The young GHO who came in months ago as an eyes-closed downy baby with his egg tooth still in place has dibs on the raptor flight, though, as soon as the barreds are out, so Sir Screech will have to wait a while.

The blue jays have been offered freedom several times but thus far have opted for sure handouts in the songbird flight instead. They did seem a bit antsy today, so maybe this week they’ll fly the coop. Maybe.

Another couple of brown thrashers came in, an adult and a nestling. The adult had been attacked by something and had severe neurological issues. He didn’t survive the night. The nestling, whom I forgot to get a photo of, was crawling with mites; once treated for that, he began to thrive, although his feathers still look a bit rough.

And this little guy, probably a robin, came in after his finder initially fed him an acceptable emergency diet but switched to Kaytee Exact when some idiot recommended it instead. People, the label on Exact CLEARLY states it’s not for use with wild birds—see below. Nearly all baby songbirds are obligate insectivores, meaning even seed-eating adults feed their babies bugs. Exact is a grain-based diet. Do you know what happens when you feed a grain-based diet to a bird that needs insect protein? Yeah, tain’t pretty. Luckily, the finder questioned the use of Exact when she saw the bird rapidly decline and got him to LWR ASAP. Now on a proper diet and getting antibiotics for possible aspiration pneumonia (he was click-breathing on intake), he seems to be doing well. Time will tell, but I’m hopeful there will be no lasting damage to the wee fellow.

This will be a short update, as I’m still coping—barely— with Daddy’s death, as well as a massive editing backlog; also, there have been few intakes the past couple of weeks, as I had more pressing issues to deal with and tried to divert calls to other rehabbers when possible.

First, thanks to those of you who sent condolences in whatever form in the past week. I’m still not caught up on my emails and my presence on FB is almost nonexistent at the moment, so I may not have seen or acknowledged all of them individually yet.  A special thanks goes to colleague Kathryn Dudeck of Chattahoochee Nature Center for taking the five brancher barnies off my hands during Daddy’s time on hospice.

As far as older intakes, we’re pretty much in a holding pattern. With the end of the nonstop rain, all the denizens of the songbird flight were released and most have stopped coming down for supplemental feedings. Currently there are two blue jays building up their flight muscles and awaiting release.

The barreds are still awaiting release; access to my preferred release site for them was flooded due to all the rain and I’m waiting for it to dry out sufficiently to get back there and give them their freedom.

The flyers are still awaiting release, as well; in another couple of days I should have most of the editing backlog under control so some of these poor babies awaiting release can go.

The two major intakes from the past couple of weeks were a starving red shoulder fledgling and a downy probable red shoulder nestling—not real sure on him; he could be a Coop. As colleague Steve Hicks says, “We know his last name; we just don’t know his first name yet.”
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The starving fledgling was iffy for the first couple of days but is self-feeding now and looking good, if still a bit thin. Regular meals will correct that, though. The first photo below is day of intake; second is today.

​The nestling RS or Coop is doing well despite having been fed boiled chicken for nearly two days before intake—this AFTER the finder called, indicated it would be a couple of days before they could bring me the bird and asked for interim feeding advice. The one food I SPECIFICALLY said NOT to feed him was chicken, but the finder, obviously knowing more than an experienced, licensed rehabber, opted not only to feed chicken but to BOIL it first. People, no wildlife—mammal or bird—has stoves or microwaves to cook their food. When they’re fed cooked or processed foods, it can seriously and possibly fatally screw up their digestive systems. And then the finder called me condescending when I dressed them down about not following my very specific feeding instructions. Well duh, if you can’t follow simple, detailed instructions…

Sorry for the dearth of photos and details on current residents and releases; honestly, getting photos and videos was the last thing on my mind last week.  I’m still trying to regain my equilibrium, and it’s not an easy task—still one breath away from hysterical sobbing most of the time, quite frankly, and my concentration is all but nonexistent.  As Daddy said to me three days before his death, “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll all work out.” Just bear with me while I try to make those words reality.

​This will be more of a rant than an update, for reasons I’ll get to shortly. First, thanks to those who expressed concern about the family emergency last week. My father is on hospice at home; I have 40 birds and four flying squirrels in my care, and I’m surviving on less than two hours’ sleep a night as I deal with Daddy’s declining situation, the birds, the constant calls about birds, and editing so I can keep the bills paid. It’s a hellish, stressful environment right now.
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That said, when a call came in this afternoon and the caller left a voicemail, the last thing I needed was the message this rude person left, which you can hear for yourself below. 

My response is how dare you? How DARE you leave me an abusive message and then state you’re going to sit there and watch the bird YOU refuse to bring to me or another rehabber die? What kind of sick and twisted mind operates like that? Do you also enjoy pulling wings off flies and kicking puppies?

Your entitled, bratty, abusive attitude is especially galling in light of the young couple with a months-old infant who skipped church this morning to make the drive from Gainesville, GA—a day trip for them, in effect— to bring me a severely neurologic gosling that they knew from the outset might not make it.  He’s still with us, barely, but it’s honestly not looking good. THESE people have my undying thanks for doing the right thing without hesitation.

And just now a mother and daughter from near the same region called about an unnested robin. I was able to give them emergency care advice and the number for WREN, a volunteer transport network, with the warning that WREN might not have people in their area. At the moment, their plan is to bring me the bird themselves, a six-hour round trip, in the morning if he survives the night. They were tearfully grateful that I returned their call and was “so nice”—apparently they’d been down the very short list of songbird rehabbers for the entire state, and I was the only one to return their call…which leads me to yet another rant, this one addressed to my colleagues.

Look, people, if you want to be treated like a professional, ACT like a professional. If you’re at capacity, change your voicemail message to indicate it so people don’t expect a call back. If you’re out of town—although God only knows how you manage THAT during baby season—indicate this on your voicemail message. Rehabbers struggle enough as it is with a public—and too often, official—image that we’re just eccentric do-gooders who like “playing” with animals. That image will never change as long as we as rehabbers don’t act like the trained professionals we’re supposed to be. This ain’t rocket science, people; it’s just basic common sense.

And now let me explain a few things to the unenlightened among you. First, rehabbers DO NOT receive state or federal funding for our efforts. Most of us have JOBS that do not allow us to traverse the state to pick up wildlife. If a rehabber is running all over the state to pick up wildlife, the wildlife in his/her care is left to fend for itself until s/he returns. In the case of birds that require half-hourly feedings, that means missing multiple feedings if the pickup is several hours away. This endangers the health and survival of those birds. Further, the money spent on gas could be better used to feed the wildlife currently under care, as funds are always limited.

In my situation, as apparently the only licensed songbird rehabber in the state still accepting birds, it is physically impossible for me to drive all across the state to pick up birds. I cannot load up 40 birds and take them with me; I have a paying job to maintain; and, as stated above, currently, I have a family crisis situation with my father. I’m also one of the few raptor rehabbers in the state still accepting birds—same scenario.

To be clear, I don’t do this for public acclaim, and I normally let abusive bitches like this one roll off my back. But this one today, on top of the family situation, was just one bit of abuse too much, and I needed to vent my frustration and let you hear just what those of us who VOLUNTEER our time and money have to put up with.

There are, fortunately, more decent people out there than there are jackasses, but the jackasses are the ones that leave rehabbers questioning whether their efforts are worth the abuse. Most of us tough it out, but I want y’all be aware of what we put up with and why we get so snarky.

Ranting done, we’ll move on to an abbreviated update, as I honestly don’t have a whole lot of time and energy at the moment.
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Briefly, on the older birds, the barred trio is still in the raptor flight because IT WON’T STOP RAINING. They’ve passed the live prey test if the rain ever stops. Once they’re out the great horned goes in, followed in short order—I hope—by the remaining two barreds, and then all five—yes, FIVE, barnies. More barnies came in week before last.

​Then the screech should be old enough to go in the raptor flight.

I literally have owls stacked like cordwood right now. It’s not an ideal situation for them or me, but we’re all making do and hoping for a break in the weather soon…

The neurologic blue jay remained unable to stand properly—severe balance issues—and I ended up having to euthanize him. The poor titmouse also remained unable to fly and required euthanasia.

Three of the four killdeer died or declined so rapidly that they required euthanasia. It’s incredibly frustrating to have four birds in the same enclosure eating the same food, and find one dead and then watch two more decline to the point that you just have to end their suffering, while the fourth flourishes and you have no clue why on any of it.

There were a lot of DOAs week before last, so the missed update would’ve been pretty depressing: a blue jay, a brown thrasher, a house finch, three of a nest of four really ratty-looking blue jays, one of two red-bellied woodpeckers, a robin, and an unidentified hatchling.

Last week, another thrasher came in and while I’m giving him time, he’s probably going to end up requiring euthanasia. His wing was pretty trashed as far as soft tissue; no broken bones.
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Four what looked to be mocker hatchlings came in and didn’t survive 24 hours, poor babies, nor did a sweet phoebe who nearly drowned in the constant downpours we’ve been having. Her rescuers got her to me ASAP and she perked up a bit with meds, but died overnight.

Two more blue jays came in, from different nests, and are doing well.
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A Laurens County Sheriff’s Deputy called midweek about a hawk found in the road in front of his house. Based on his description, it sounded as if the bird had probably just been stunned but I asked him to let me examine it before I okayed a release. He was in fact good to go, and Deputy Sid Harrison sent me the short release video below.

​All the bluebirds ended up back in the songbird flight because of the rain—the beauty of a soft release; I can snag ‘em and bring ‘em to safety if I see they’re struggling. They’re sharing the songbird flight with the snake-survivor bluebird, five mockers, a brown thrasher and three house finches. All these birds are good to go if it ever stops raining.

​And the flyers are approaching their release date, as well.

​Sorry this is so abbreviated, “ranty”, short on photos and video, and disjointed.  Kinda the state of my life at the moment, though—at least the “ranty” and disjointed parts…

I'm sorry, y'all. We have a family crisis to deal with, and there's just no way I can manage it, keep the birds fed, and update the blog too. 

Good Lord, I don’t even know where to start…

Last Sunday a Carolina wren fledgling and a nestling barn owl came in. The Caro didn’t survive the night, sadly; the barnie had me worried, as he had maggot eggs in one nostril and I wasn’t sure I’d cleaned them all out—plus he didn’t want to eat, at all. I had to literally force-feed him. Luckily, I did get all the maggot eggs and after a few days of being force-fed he decided taking the proffered food from the forceps was much less stressful.  The first photo below is him on day of intake; the second is today. Today’s pic isn’t that great, but he’s moved into the hissy stage and even a barnie hiss is…ummm…not pleasant to the ears, so I sort of guerilla-snapped that photo!

​Monday a cat-attacked grackle came in but didn’t survive the day, despite immediate medication on intake.

​Tuesday a nestling bluebird came in, the sole survivor of a snake raid on the nest.

​Wednesday, an adult female bluebird came in, along with a nestling red shouldered hawk. The bluebird favored her left wing, which was swollen, but x-rays showed no fractures. You can clearly see the swollen tissue, though. No photos of her because she’s a little escape artist!

​The red shoulder had a broken leg. Because the mammal rehabber who transferred him to me had said the break was mid-bone, we were all hopeful it could be fixed, but x-rays indicated otherwise. It was indeed mid-bone but so badly displaced that vet Peggy Hobby, vet tech Autumn Parker and I all simultaneously moaned in dismay at the x-ray. We sounded like some sort of Greek chorus…

​Thursday,  a nestling grackle came in, THREE DAYS after being found and fed a crap Internet diet. His finders were “worried” about him on day three, as he didn’t seem as “chipper.” Yeah, three days of crap in your system when you’re a growing bird will do that. He also showed signs of respiratory distress, so I started meds immediately, but he died overnight. 

​An adult barred owl with an open wing fracture also came in Thursday; there was nothing to be done for him except end his suffering.

 And a Thursday morning caller said they’d taken a “baby bird with a blue tail” from their cat. Its wing was RIPPED OFF, and could they keep it as a pet? I kid you not. This conversation continued until I thought I was gonna have to call the game warden but I finally convinced these people to get the bird, a fledgling bluebird, to Smalley’s, where I was having the female bluebird and nestling red shoulder x-rayed.
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The right wing was indeed ripped off, and the left wing was mauled underneath. The poor baby was dying from shock and blood loss anyway but we euthanized to end his misery. Peggy and I both adore bluebirds, so that made this particular euthanasia even worse, despite it being the right thing to do. The wing photos below were taken post-euthanasia.

​Friday an adult cedar waxwing came in with only a slight droop to his left wing, indicative of a coracoid fracture. He was alert and well-fleshed, so I figured a little time to heal and he’d be good to go. He was dead the next morning. No clue as to why, unless he’d gotten into pesticides or insecticides.

​Another fledgling brown thrasher came in, as well, after one parent was hit by car and died. The finders tried to put the bird back in the bushes but he kept hopping out into the road, so it was deemed safer for him to send him to LWR.

​This poor little nestling blue jay had serious head trauma and neurological issues on intake. He was found on the ground in an apartment complex. He kept flipping onto his back and twisting his neck so that it looked like he had wry neck (a condition where the bird’s head is flipped upside down). I honestly didn’t have high hopes for him but refused to give up without a fight. 

​By Saturday, he was at least positioning himself properly in the nest most of the time, although his head still tended to twist a bit.

​Today, he was sitting upright and begging for food like a proper little jay. He still has some tremors but things look much more hopeful for him than three days ago!

​Also on Friday, a couple called and said a tree surgeon had cut down a hollow oak on their property and discovered, too late, a nest of owls. It’s my understanding that tree surgeons are supposed to be trained to LOOK for things like owl and songbird nests, but we all know profit comes first, right? I explained how to recover the owls and get them to LWR, expecting two more barreds, but noooo, they showed up with two half-grown, hissy barnies!

​And yet another adult barred owl came in Friday, also. He was concussed out of his gourd, to the point that Saturday morning I honestly thought he’d died during the night. He’s still a bit loopy but improving.

​Rounding out the week a second nestling red shoulder came in Saturday with his left lower eyelid ripped loose. The tissue still looked fairly healthy, so colleagues Steve Hicks and Kathryn Dudeck and I discussed triage until he could get to Smalley’s Monday. However, he died overnight, after throwing up everything he’d eaten. There was also a sharp chemical smell, so I suspect his ripped lower eyelid was the least of his worries; his parents had probably fed their babies rodenticide-laced mice. I hate rodenticides with a passion…

​The five bluebirds and five finches, after time in the songbird flight, were released. The bluebirds tend to come down for supplemental feedings singly; the finches en masse.

​The mockers are now in the songbird flight.

​The titmouse and “older” (last week’s) brown thrasher are indicating today that they’re ready for the songbird flight, but I’ll hold them a little longer, till the mockers are out. Those mockers would bully my sweet thrasher and titmouse something awful!

The barreds in the raptor flight are looking good but have a while yet before they’re releasable. The great horned is getting antsy and needs to be in the raptor flight soon. The nestling barred from last week is self-feeding this week, and the flyers are slated for release in June.
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The killdeer are adorable and growing like weeds.

​And hopefully that’s got everybody updated. I think. Maybe…

May decided to enter with a mushroom cloud-sized “I’m heee—eeere!” Including the babies that arrived today, in just the first six days of this month, LWR has had 20 intakes. Yeah--20. That’s already almost half the total intakes for April. Remember, I did say if April was any indication…

I don’t even know where to start, aside from warning you there will be a good bit of ranting going on this update. Pull up a soapbox and have a seat.
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Lord, I dunno; let’s start with the “older” guests. The adult GHO did require euthanasia; the barred trio is now in the raptor flight, where they sit and look…ummm…less than intelligent all day. Cute but not smart. At least they’re eating, though, right?

​The phoebes were released after a few days in the songbird flight and didn’t hang around any longer than the nuthatches.

​The Carolina wren refused to leave and ended up hanging out with the bluebirds when they moved into the songbird flight. By the end of this week, they might be releasable.

​The brancher GHO is quite happy in his new digs but would prefer to be in the raptor flight. I may end up switching him and the barreds back and forth so they all get flight time.

​The flyers are, of course, adorable and gearing up for release next month.

​Early in the week, a cat-attacked chuck-will’s-widow arrived, TWO DAYS after being found. Despite immediate meds on intake, it was too late; the poor bird died overnight.

​Then a cat-caught cardinal came in. He had two ruptured air sacs, neither in a life-threatening location, but despite being started on antibiotics immediately upon arrival, he died overnight. His finder was livid, as it was a stray cat wandering through her yard who caught the poor baby. I suggested a humane trap and taking the cat to the local shelter once it was caught.

People, once again, CATS BELONG INDOORS.
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Next, a  juvenile pileated woodpecker was rescued from dogs. He was a self-feeding juvie who wanted very little to do with humans, so after a couple of days’ observation, he was released and hightailed it away from me as fast as he could.

​The very next day, five late nestling house finches came in, dumped at a vet clinic in a nearby county and delivered to LWR by a volunteer transporter. Finches are such sweet, exasperating little birds, as they’re content to remain in the nest forever. These babies are fledge-age now and still sitting in the nest, even though I’ve moved them into a larger enclosure with a perch. “Us, perch? Naaah…”

​Shortly afterward, an early fledgling brown thrasher was found in the road; his finders thought perhaps his wing was broken, and his left underwing was a bit irritated but not broken. No, his issue is a weak left leg/foot, probably as a result of a nest injury. He can use it; it’s just weak and probably always will be. But it’s much improved over intake—he’s now perching a bit and walking around.  Promising progress!

​And this adorable little fledgling titmouse came in after over two days of crap diet. I won’t even list the stuff in the so-called “diet”, as I don’t want to give anyone any bright ideas. Suffice it to say his finder was able to Google a crap diet immediately but took three days to decide to look for a rehabber. The poor bird was near comatose when he came in, and I really didn’t have high hopes, but he seems much improved. Look, people, just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t mean it’s true, accurate, or an appropriate diet for wildlife. GET THE BIRDS TO A LICENSED REHABBER ASAP.

​DNR brought two barred owls this week, a runt brancher and a HBC (hit by car) adult. The brancher is still not self-feeding and is so much smaller than the brancher trio in the raptor flight that I’m keeping him inside for a while yet.

​The adult had an open wing fracture and required euthanasia.

Yesterday someone posted on one of those cesspool Facebook pages—you know the ones I’m talking about; they’re either honest-to-God unadulterated gossip sites or they’re supposedly yard sale-type sites; either way, they’re sites where people gather to show their ignorance. In this case, the poster had four pre-fledgling mockers that she was asking care advice for and getting the world’s worst advice, including feeding them MILK. Folks...BIRDS DON’T HAVE BOOBS. Got it? Have you EVER seen a bird nursing its young? If you have, get pix and video, ‘cause you’re about to be a very rich person once you sell the rights to THAT story.

Luckily, someone with some sense actually monitors these pages and alerted me, providing the contact info for the mocker person. After some hemming and hawing and false starts and nearly the threat of turning the matter over to DNR, a volunteer transporter was finally able to get the birds to LWR.

And bear with me now as I well and truly hop on my soapbox on these next birds. A “science educator” (the person’s term, NOT mine) who knew ol’ so-and-so at a local college and “worked closely” with DNR on conservation education supposedly saw a mother killdeer killed about TWO WEEKS ago. (Now, in my experience, when you start tossing out the names of all the “important” people you know or organizations you’ve “worked with” it’s usually because you know you’ve screwed up and you’re trying to lend some legitimacy to your screw-up.) This person then took the eggs from the nest, incubated them, hatched them, and THEN decided to look for a rehabber—not so much to do the right thing for the birds as to get feeding advice, which, as you well know, I do NOT provide, aside from emergency measures until the bird(s) can be taken to me or another rehabber. I explained the legal issues, provided an emergency care plan and expected to hear from the individual the next morning. Nope.

So I texted to ask what the status was. The person called, took a deep breath and launched into ALL the reasons they couldn’t bring the birds. I finally had to just interrupt and point-blank state that if I didn’t have the birds by end of day, I was turning the matter over to DNR. Then the individual tried to guilt trip ME, moaning about how they were trying to do the right thing. Sorry, that particular bird don’t fly with this rehabber.
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I then reminded the person of the contact info I’d given them for WREN (Wildlife Resources Education Network), a group that coordinates volunteer transporters, and told the person to call them, which I’d advised the previous day.  Liz with WREN then called me a bit later, as frustrated and exasperated as I was, only this individual had outright admitted to her that they wanted to keep the killdeer because they’d make a great “educational project” for the person’s children (unclear if this was students or offspring or both).  I was livid. First off, these are LIVING CREATURES  who need proper rearing, NOT a damn science experiment. Second, what “educational” experience can one provide when one is blatantly breaking the law? “Children, the laws only apply to OTHER people, and we only obey those we want to”?

Between Liz and me and the threat of state and/or federal action—because I did contact DNR to see if the wildlife tech in the area could confiscate the birds—we managed to convince the person to meet a volunteer this morning. When she and her husband brought me the killdeer, she also expressed her frustration at dealing with this individual, and laughed as she told me I was not on this person’s list of favorite people right now.

Folks, let’s get one thing clear: I DON’T CARE if people aren’t happy with me. I wasn’t put on this earth to please people. Life ain’t a popularity contest; it’s not about how many “likes” and “attagirls” and “oh, you’re such a good persons” you can get on Facebook or Twitter or wherever.  What I DO care about is the fate of wild birds in the hands of people who think because they have a little education (I have a PhD, and I’m WELL aware of the extent of my ignorance) or can Google disastrously wrong info, they know how to care for the birds. GET THE BIRDS TO A LICENSED REHABBER ASAP!!! We don’t do this because it’s “fun” or “neat” or an “educational” experience; it’s damn hard, soul-sucking, heartbreaking, all-consuming work. We do it because we care about our native wildlife and we want to try to compensate in some small way for the wholesale destruction of wildlife habitats that humans cause daily—and to give the wildlife in our care a second chance at living the life God intended it to have. The “rewards” we seek aren’t public adulation; we want to see the wildlife in our care successfully released back into the wild. When injuries or illness preclude that possibility, we can at least make sure its end is humane and quick.

*deep breath*  Rant over.

The killdeer were not in an optimal setup; they were being fed only periodically when they’re self-feeding from hatching and need constant access to food 24/7, etc., etc. So far they seem to’ve adjusted nicely to a proper setup; hopefully the stress of their first few days won’t cause any long-term problems.

​And late this afternoon this dog-attacked Carolina wren came in. To this guy’s credit, he and his son chased down the dog, took the bird and, after looking up short-term care options, contacted LWR and made arrangements to get the bird here ASAP. He did admit to asking his local pet store’s clerk what food to use, and they sold him hand-feeding formula for exotics that CLEARLY states it’s not for use with wild birds, which he noticed and commented on. As I told him, the pet store clerk isn’t interested in the welfare of the bird; he’s interested in getting you to buy something. The wren’s wing is very swollen and looks like it may be broken; we’ll try for x-rays early next week to see.

​I’ve been working on this update all day, between feeding birds, and I’m honestly too tired to come up with any pearls of wisdom to end with, just these reminders:

1. KEEP YOUR CATS INDOORS.
2. If you find an injured or orphaned bird, CALL A REHABBER IMMEDIATELY. Not after Googling feeding instructions, not after posting on Facebook asking for godawful advice on feeding the bird, not after calling your best bud. IMMEDIATELY.
3. Don’t ask pet stores for feeding advice for wild birds; they will sell you inappropriate food that clearly states it is NOT to be used for wild birds. See #2.
4. Don’t toss out the names of all the supposedly influential people you know as justification to break the law. I don’t care who you know or what degrees you (or they) have; if you and they don’t have the proper permits, don’t even consider keeping that bird. I *WILL* get angry and I *WILL* report you, without a moment’s hesitation, as will any other rehabber. We don’t play those games when little lives are at stake.
5. BIRDS DON’T HAVE BOOBS. Don’t ever feed them milk.