Okay, rant first, people—if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a gazillion (only slight exaggeration) times: orphaned/injured/ill wildlife should be gotten to a wildlife rehabber ASAP. Everyone can look up the number of whatever agency in their state handles hunting & fishing; the same people usually regulate wildlife rehab, too, and can provide names and numbers for the rehabber nearest you.
What brought on the rant this time? Person calls me on May 31 with one surviving hatchling robin, app. 8 days old by my estimation. When the person found the nest on the ground there were three healthy babies in it. This person first tried to place the blame for not calling me earlier on another rehabber, then claimed they could never reach me at the very same number they were now calling. Folks, my phone is on and on or near my person 24/7/365, so I know that’s not true. Then the caller began sobbing to me about how they had tried so hard and now this last baby wasn’t looking healthy…as usual, when some untrained person screws things up, then they can suddenly find my number and cry for me to clean up their mess. I asked what the birds had been fed…baby food using their finger. People, even your little finger is too blasted big to be shoving down a hatchling bird’s throat! And without sterilizing the finger before each feeding, Lord knows what kinds of foreign bacteria were introduced to the bird’s gut…I took some sadistic pleasure in the fact that the caller had sweltered for 3 days in a closed-off bedroom with the heater on as they fed the birds every half hour round the clock, day and night. Stupidity can be painful!
What brought on the rant this time? Person calls me on May 31 with one surviving hatchling robin, app. 8 days old by my estimation. When the person found the nest on the ground there were three healthy babies in it. This person first tried to place the blame for not calling me earlier on another rehabber, then claimed they could never reach me at the very same number they were now calling. Folks, my phone is on and on or near my person 24/7/365, so I know that’s not true. Then the caller began sobbing to me about how they had tried so hard and now this last baby wasn’t looking healthy…as usual, when some untrained person screws things up, then they can suddenly find my number and cry for me to clean up their mess. I asked what the birds had been fed…baby food using their finger. People, even your little finger is too blasted big to be shoving down a hatchling bird’s throat! And without sterilizing the finger before each feeding, Lord knows what kinds of foreign bacteria were introduced to the bird’s gut…I took some sadistic pleasure in the fact that the caller had sweltered for 3 days in a closed-off bedroom with the heater on as they fed the birds every half hour round the clock, day and night. Stupidity can be painful!
Anyway, I now have the robin, and so far he seems to be doing well, thank goodness. I’m worried about possible splay leg, as he was without proper support for three days, but we’ll have to wait and see what develops as he grows.
Point of rant? Repeat after me—you should know this mantra by heart now: “Rehabbers are licensed for a REASON.” We have the training and hands-on experience to handle these situations. Would you practice medicine without a license? Would you perform brain surgery or spay a cat without a license? Then what in blue blazes makes you think it’s okay to attempt wildlife rehab without a license???
*Sigh* I realize that I’m preaching to the choir here…but at least I feel better after ranting!
*Sigh* I realize that I’m preaching to the choir here…but at least I feel better after ranting!
Now for the raves: Is this not the cutest little bird you’ve ever seen? This pre-fledgling chickadee (Carolina; the black capped are generally in Parts North) came in on Memorial Day and, to use an old expression, sulled up for an entire day before deciding to gape for food.
And in the “so ugly I’m cute” category, we have this downy turkey vulture. While I know that most people aren’t terribly fond of adult vultures, let me remind you again that they serve an important purpose; without vultures, we’d be knee-deep in rotting road-kill and other carcasses.
This little guy hissed and growled and lunged for food the entire time I had him; he’s now at Bubba & Friends Raptor Rehab (www.bubba-and-friends.org).
Another “cute through the stratosphere” baby is this downy screech owl. He was with me for only a few days before going to Bubba & Friends, as Steve Hicks had another downy screech coming in and we decided the two needed to be together. Steve says they’re so close in age they might as well have come from the same nest, so that worked out well for everyone concerned!
The red shouldered hawk who came in as a downy baby blossomed into a gorgeous teenager before going to Bubba & Friends for flight conditioning and hunting lessons. (Scroll down to previous two updates to see her progress.) Look at this lady! Steve said today that she has virtually no down left but retains her diva attitude: Her food must be in the exact same place every day or she won’t eat it!
The possums have all been released now and gone their oblivious little ways.
As promised in the last update, here’s a photo of some of the released Carolina wrens, sunning themselves in the brush. They’re slower to wean off the post-release supplemental feedings, but we’re getting there.
We also had another two Carolina wrens come in; they were little “naked babies” at intake, and very cold and lethargic. I was more worried about their survival than getting photos at that point. The next couple of days were touch-and-go, but they’re doing great now.
The flight pen mocker was released shortly after the last update and was promptly replaced by two new mockers and the finch in the flight pen! They were released today to make room for the two blue jays who came in a couple of days apart.
This hatchling Carolina wren came in just tonight; his nest was found in the bumper of a truck after it had been moved from its original location all day, so his one sibling had died from a combination of dehydration and starvation. Carolina wrens must be fed every 15-20 minutes at this tender age. To his credit, the man who found them called his wife immediately; she had brought animals to me in previous years and called me about this wee one. He’s weak but gaping and is still getting alternating fluids and food as I type; normally baby songbirds aren’t fed at night, but this little fellow missed so many feedings today that I’ll be feeding him most of the night to try and ensure his survival.
And finally, a huge welcome to newly-minted vet Richie Hatcher, who’s joined the talented and amazing vets at Smalley’s Animal Hospital. I baptized him by fire today with two intakes who required euthanasia; hopefully the next time I see him I’ll have something we can save!
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