The barred owl was released last week, much to our mutual delight. He was really going stir-crazy in the raptor flight, but between the colder than usual temps and the really windy conditions, he ended up staying a few days longer than either of us wanted. He was ready to go; I knew he was ready to go—so as soon as the weather cooperated, go he did!
No video of the release because he shot out of the box and headed so deep into the woods that I couldn’t even locate him for an after-release photo. He did, however, hurl invectives at me as I opened the box for his release—THAT I did manage to catch on video!
No video of the release because he shot out of the box and headed so deep into the woods that I couldn’t even locate him for an after-release photo. He did, however, hurl invectives at me as I opened the box for his release—THAT I did manage to catch on video!
The gray squirrels continue to grow, and the female’s eyes opened this weekend. The male’s will probably open this week.
And early last week a first-year red-tailed hawk came in from a neighboring county. Their Animal Control had picked him up from the roadside over the weekend. His left eye looked pretty bad, and his right wing was broken and needed x-rays to determine the extent of the break.
Vets Richie Hatcher and Peggy Hobby of Smalley’s Animal Hospital felt the eye might be salvageable with treatment, so we agreed to give it time and meds to see what happened. It’s actually looking much better.
This was the day after intake.
This was the day after intake.
And two days later.
The wing, however, is going to be a bit iffier. While the break is mid-bone and not horribly displaced, it’s still in a location that may or may not heal properly. Given that he has held the wing perfectly level from the day of intake and the fact that he’ll be confined with little space to flail the wing wildly, Richie and I opted not to wrap it, as his personality led us to believe he’d do more damage trying to tear at the wrap than he would just leaving it “as-is”. Sometimes the best treatment is as little treatment as possible, and that’s what we’re banking on here. He’ll go back in for further x-rays in a couple of weeks to see if a callus is starting to form around the fracture. Fingers crossed we see some serious healing going on.
As I was coming off my own rehabber hell week two weeks ago, colleague Leslie Jackson of Oklahoma took in a red-tail whose knee was shattered and, of course, he required euthanasia. I think most raptor rehabbers have a soft spot for red-tails because they’re generally so laid-back in a rehab setting. Leslie made a statement that sums up how we feel many days: “The life of a Rehabber ain't all it's cracked up to be, folks.”
She’s absolutely right, which is why I grit my teeth and bite my tongue when people say, "Oh, what you do must be so much FUN." No. No, it's not fun. It's exhausting, emotionally draining, exasperating, and although there is exhilaration at releases, the "down" days far outweigh the "up" days. I don't do it for "fun"; I do it to compensate for human stupidity and apathy. It's my small way of making a difference.
It’s important to understand that in Nature’s eyes wildlife is effectively dead the moment humans can touch it, hence LWR’s catch-phrase—“Giving Nature’s children a second chance”. Rehabbers offer that second chance to wildlife that otherwise would die of exposure, starvation, infection, injury—and sometimes the only “release” we can offer is an end to suffering.
This is why we get so frustrated with people who express an interest in becoming rehabbers but immediately follow their expression of interest with “But I could never put anything down.”
If you can’t euthanize and you can’t handle blood and gore, you’ll never be able to make it as a rehabber, people. Fully half an average rehabber’s intakes in any given year are either DOA or require euthanasia. It ain’t pleasant but it’s reality.
As for the other half, most of them stand a good chance at release—which brings up another least-favorite sentiment from the public: “Oh, I would get too attached and could never let anything go.”
I always wanna ask them, “So you’d keep wildlife captive in violation of state and, in the case of birds, federal law, knowing that you’re denying that wildlife the chance to live the life Nature intended for it?”
Folks, there is very little more rewarding than watching a bird or other wildlife that came in orphaned, ill or injured mature or regain its health and return to the wild where it belongs—releases are the lifeline for rehabbers; they’re what keep us going.
I don’t discourage anyone from becoming a rehabber but it’s important to know what you’re getting into so you don’t get burned out and bummed out after two or three years. It’s not a hobby; it’s a way of life, and if you can’t devote the time, money and energy to it and pour your heart and soul into doing what’s in the best interest of the wildlife, do us all a favor and don’t even explore the possibility.
She’s absolutely right, which is why I grit my teeth and bite my tongue when people say, "Oh, what you do must be so much FUN." No. No, it's not fun. It's exhausting, emotionally draining, exasperating, and although there is exhilaration at releases, the "down" days far outweigh the "up" days. I don't do it for "fun"; I do it to compensate for human stupidity and apathy. It's my small way of making a difference.
It’s important to understand that in Nature’s eyes wildlife is effectively dead the moment humans can touch it, hence LWR’s catch-phrase—“Giving Nature’s children a second chance”. Rehabbers offer that second chance to wildlife that otherwise would die of exposure, starvation, infection, injury—and sometimes the only “release” we can offer is an end to suffering.
This is why we get so frustrated with people who express an interest in becoming rehabbers but immediately follow their expression of interest with “But I could never put anything down.”
If you can’t euthanize and you can’t handle blood and gore, you’ll never be able to make it as a rehabber, people. Fully half an average rehabber’s intakes in any given year are either DOA or require euthanasia. It ain’t pleasant but it’s reality.
As for the other half, most of them stand a good chance at release—which brings up another least-favorite sentiment from the public: “Oh, I would get too attached and could never let anything go.”
I always wanna ask them, “So you’d keep wildlife captive in violation of state and, in the case of birds, federal law, knowing that you’re denying that wildlife the chance to live the life Nature intended for it?”
Folks, there is very little more rewarding than watching a bird or other wildlife that came in orphaned, ill or injured mature or regain its health and return to the wild where it belongs—releases are the lifeline for rehabbers; they’re what keep us going.
I don’t discourage anyone from becoming a rehabber but it’s important to know what you’re getting into so you don’t get burned out and bummed out after two or three years. It’s not a hobby; it’s a way of life, and if you can’t devote the time, money and energy to it and pour your heart and soul into doing what’s in the best interest of the wildlife, do us all a favor and don’t even explore the possibility.
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