Inviting Murphy to the party…or tempting fate…

Take your pick.  Apparently last Sunday’s perfectly innocent observation that the month had started slowly was seen as a challenge to the rehab gods, who proceeded to royally slam LWR with intakes last week. Remind me to keep my big mouth shut…

So…Lordy, I’m too tired and scattered to even know where to begin…

The Eastern phoebe and blue jay were released; the blue jay is still swooping in for handouts. Blue jays are opportunistic little beggars, so like the pileated—who is also still showing up for treats—he’ll be around a while. The barn swallow died overnight during the week—fine, alert and happy at lights-out; dead the next morning, still in nesting position…

The cardinal and house finch joined the mocker and mourning dove in the flight pen.

The GHO was offered and ignored live prey, so he’s still in the raptor flight—and not too happy about it. The red shoulder NEEDS to be in the raptor flight, but Doofus in there has to figure out what to do with live food first, so I can release him. For those who may not be aware of it, raptors don’t play nice together; the GHO would gladly eat the red shoulder—well, a GHO with a well-developed predatory instinct would…

Two additional red shoulders came in, one a first- or second-year bird and the other an adult. The adult bird was brought by a game warden from several counties away and had been shot. A cursory parking lot exam led me to believe the injury might not be too severe; a more detailed exam when I got the bird home revealed that the wrist was shattered. This was not a fixable injury, and the bird was euthanized.

Folks, a reminder here: it is against state and federal law to go taking potshots at birds protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. And what birds would those be, you ask? Pretty much everything but house sparrows, starlings and pigeons. It’s also against the law to disturb a protected bird’s nest, eggs or young—and yes, that includes even those species some people consider nuisances, like crows, or a bird as tiny as a wren. They’re ALL protected by state and federal law, people!

As required by law, the gunshot red shoulder was reported to US Fish and Wildlife and to GA DNR, although the game warden from that county was already investigating the incident and knew that it was an unsupervised child who’d shot the bird. And oh Lordy, that brings on another rant—adults, teach your children how to handle guns properly! You think that child won’t move from potshots at birds to shooting cats and dogs and then maybe siblings or random strangers???  No child should be allowed to roam around unsupervised with a gun! Teach them proper respect for that weapon and what it can do!

The other red shoulder was found grounded on private property and I initially thought the wing was broken; what I thought was possibly a near-open fracture turned out upon closer examination to be a broken feather shaft—this is why parking lot exams are cursory, at best—with a lot of bruising.  The wing is still tender but the bird is doing well and should be releasable unless there’s tendon damage—no way to determine that until he’s put into a flight pen. (And see above on that; thankyaverymuch, Doofus GHO!)

Knowing they had fledgling blue jays in their back yard, the people who brought me the next two birds continued to allow their dogs and cats to roam that area and were shocked when they found one of the fledglings on the ground covered with ants and the other about to be cornered by a dog. They snatched up both birds and proceeded to spray the ant-covered baby with the water hose, filling his lungs with water and effectively drowning him. Then, as he struggled to breathe, they took his open beak as a sign that he was thirsty and plunged more water into his lungs. He barely survived the drive to meet me; he didn’t survive my drive home. The video clip below was shot in the car before leaving the parking lot.

Folks, if you find wildlife covered with ants, yes, water will remove them, but use extreme caution around the eyes, ears and mouth/beak.  It’s all too easy to get water into those tiny lungs, and it can be fatal almost immediately.

Fortunately, his sib is doing well, although not flying well enough for the flight pen yet.

When a tree trimmer got word that a rotten pecan tree was about to fall on a church, he did all the right things before cutting the dead tree down, so he was not happy when the tree fell to find a nest of woodpeckers on the ground. Woodpeckers are cavity nesters, so it’s very unlikely he would’ve seen the nest. Acting quickly, he called his wife to contact LWR while he drove the babies back to her; she brought them on to LWR while he finished his work.

It was a nest of four red-bellied woodpeckers, eyes barely open. Because they were brought to LWR within hours of being found, they were in good shape upon arrival and are thriving.

Here we have hungry red bellies:

And here we have just-fed red bellies:

Hear the difference? Yeah, me either. They actually do stop the sibilant calling after a few minutes; it takes their mouths a few seconds to catch up to their full crops. How they don’t manage to alert every predator in the universe to their location is beyond me!

The lady who found these Carolina wrens also acted responsibly. They were in a jet ski brought in for repairs, and since she worked elsewhere and was about to head to her shift when they were found, she called to see what she needed to do to keep them going until the next morning. I explained the emergency measures she needed to take, and the next morning all four little darlings came to LWR.

Here they are yesterday:

This pre-fledgling great crested flycatcher kept jumping from her nest and the people whose nest the property was on kept putting her back; they finally decided enough was enough and called LWR. After listening to their explanation, I agreed to take the bird, even though its parents and sibs were still around. Something’s just not right when a nestling bird won’t stay in the nest.

Upon receiving the bird, I saw at least part of the problem: the baby was massively mite-infested, which meant the nest and sibs were too. I explained to the rescuer what she needed to do for the remaining nestlings and took this baby home to begin “de-miting”. It took TWO HOURS to totally de-mite the poor bird, during which time I also began to suspect we might have a fractured pelvis from all the falls from the nest. The baby was placed in a soft “donut” nest, where she remains today, although she is showing some signs of improved foot/leg function. We’ll have to wait and see what happens, but I’m more optimistic than I was a few days ago.

And when a lady from a nearby county called with what she was pretty sure were chimney swifts, I shuddered in dread. Chimney swifts are sweet, sweet little birds, mind you, but they’re notoriously stressy and very labor-intensive wee ones.

Even the photo she texted me of them in her fireplace didn’t prepare me for how tiny these babies were upon intake: six recently hatched, totally naked (not all birds have hatchling down/fuzz) swifts weighing just 5 grams each. Tiny, tiny!

Unfortunately, one died on the way home and three more that night. This is not unusual, especially for such young birds. My Canadian colleagues at Swift Care Ontario are always a lifeline when I get in chimney swifts, and this lot was no exception. From intake onward, we had ongoing communication to ensure these babies had every chance possible, although Debbie at Swift Care Ontario acknowledged from the outset that it was very iffy with such recent hatchlings.

The two surviving swifts are doing well; one was a little lethargic on the day after intake but both are noisily demanding food now, which is always a good sign!

And to get a bit preachy again, aside from the illegality of possessing wildlife without a permit, people who do so are on their own, relying on utterly crappy information they find online, much of which should be titled “How to kill wildlife in 24-48 hours”.  They have no support network at all, aside from their ego-stroking buddies who encourage their scofflawery (and if that’s not a word, it should be). I’m grateful beyond words to my many colleagues across the globe, who provide advice, best practices, commiseration, humor, encouragement and that thin thread that keeps my sanity—and temper—from snapping entirely!