Not good couple of weeks for birds…

Sorry, but there’s very little good news in this update, and the stats I said would be ready for this update are not, as actual rehab took precedence over crunching numbers…not that it mattered, ultimately. Every intake since the January update has either been DOA or required euthanasia. This is, however, an accurate snapshot of what rehabbers experience on a regular basis…and yes, it frequently sucks, for lack of a more elegant term.

The broadwing from the last update isn’t healing properly, so she’s looking more and more likely to be nonreleasable.  She’s slated for transfer soon for further evaluation by Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends raptor rehab, to determine her ultimate fate.

I picked up this barred owl on a Sunday morning. He was found by the side of the road, so HBC (hit by car) was a fairly good guess, only he showed no signs of concussion or other injury. The inside of his beak was very pale, however, and he was rail-thin, so I started treatment for parasites, and he perked up within a few days. Sadly, it was a short-lived victory, as he declined rapidly a week after intake and required euthanasia.

On my way back from picking up the ill-fated barred owl, I saw flashing blue lights in front of me on the interstate, and as I passed by, two deputies were blocking the right lane to protect a downed vulture. I pulled over and walked back to where they were. One of the deputies met me, exclaiming, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you the bird lady? I’m so glad to see you!”

The black vulture had been hit by a truck the deputies had pulled over, and they had been trying to determine how best to move him before oncoming traffic flattened him. The injured vulture shakily stood up and we herded him to the shoulder of the road. While the deputies watched to make sure he didn’t head back into traffic,  I ran back to my car to retrieve gloves, blanket and box. Vultures can run very quickly and can be quite difficult to catch, even when injured—and I did end up chasing him down an embankment and tossing the blanket over him to capture him.

His head had a nasty gash, but there were no other external signs of injury. Unfortunately, he apparently had internal injuries; he died during the night.

This gorgeous mature red tail came in a little over a week later. An eight year old boy got off the bus and went to see what his Chihuahua was “pointing” in a low-limbed tree. Upon seeing this bird in the tree, the child climbed the tree, retrieved the bird and took him home to ask his father if they could keep him. The father loaded boy and bird into his car and headed for the Dublin-Laurens Humane Society, where shelter manager Irene Sumner called me.

Upon arrival at the shelter, I found the child still holding the bird, unrestrained, in his lap. I took the bird and tried to explain the dangers of what he’d just done, pointing out the hawk’s very sharp talons and graphically describing the damage they could do. I could tell I wasn’t getting through, though, because that had not been the child’s experience.

The red tail turned out to be glove-trained; his beak and talons were overgrown; he was rail-thin. I discussed his condition with two other rehabbers and ran him in the next day for vet Peggy Hobby at Smalley’s Animal Hospital to examine. Vet Richie Hatcher also weighed in on the bird’s behavior. The general consensus was that this poor hawk had been raised in captivity and never taught to hunt properly, and then, some two years later, dumped to fend for himself.

Because he was so emaciated, I offered small meals several times a day. The night before his vet visit, he ate two small mice on his own. The next morning, I had to force-feed. Four hours after his vet visit, he began vomiting undigested food.  I treated for the vomiting, but it didn’t stop it. About two hours later, he had fallen off his low perch. I picked him up, only to have him die in my arms. What little care I could provide was too little, too late—his system had already begun shutting down and he was incapable of digesting the food he’d eaten. He died of starvation.

We have no way to definitively prove that his death was a result of human stupidity, of course, and no way to determine who was responsible, but I can guarantee you that I’d like to nail someone’s hide to the barn door.  It’s taken all my restraint to write this calmly about the situation, so enjoy my relative calm while you can; it’s unlikely to occur again.

The razor-sharp keel, or breastbone, of the emaciated red tail

This gorgeous sharp shinned hawk came in last week with an open wing fracture and the tip of his beak missing. The beak would grow back—and was in the process of doing so; it was an old injury. An open wing fracture, though, is generally a death sentence for a bird; we knew he would require euthanasia. Because I’m paranoid about possible gunshot wounds, however, we decided at Smalley’s to do an x-ray just to rule out that possibility. Thankfully, there was no lead in the wing, but the fracture was even worse than the physical exam indicated.

And today, as I was working on this update, I received a call from a family who’d rescued a cedar waxwing from their cat…TWO DAYS ago. Today it couldn’t stand, which is the only reason they called me, despite the fact that possession of a wild bird by a non-licensed individual is a violation of state and federal law.  When I picked up the bird, just a cursory parking lot exam revealed dried blood on the left wing, the same side of the body the bird was having problems with. I started him on antibiotics and made him as comfortable as possible, but he died 90 minutes later. Had I gotten him TWO DAYS ago, when the injury was fresh and before the toxins in the cat saliva had spread throughout his system, he might have had a pretty good chance at survival, as no bones appeared to be broken.

Folks, ANY time you rescue ANY wild bird or animal from a cat, it needs to be taken to a licensed rehabber IMMEDIATELY for treatment. Cat saliva is designed to break down protein; even if the animal appears uninjured, if it ingests any of that saliva in the process of preening or grooming, it can still be fatal. And always, ALWAYS seek out a licensed rehabber when any critter you rescue has even a drop of blood evident.

I’ll repeat what’s becoming my mantra yet again: No matter how cute and cuddly a critter looks, no matter how “neat” you think it would be to attempt to raise or treat that critter yourself, no matter what a “wonderful learning experience” you think it might be for your children, even if your ultimate goal is to release it, IT IS AGAINST THE LAW TO DO SO if you don’t have the proper permits—and your well-meaning ignorance can cost that critter its life!

Hopping off the soapbox for now to remind you that the Great Backyard Bird Count will be Feb. 17-20 this year. No matter where you live, you can participate; this is one of the easiest bird counts to take part in.  You can count for as little as 15 minutes for just one day, although I think it’s fun to count for at least half an hour each day. Parks are legitimate sites for participation, for you urban dwellers!