First off, folks, lemme go ahead and hop on my soapbox. I just spent part of an afternoon going back and forth with a braying jackass on a public forum after said jackass threatened to shoot a hawk hanging around the person’s back yard. I warned the person that shooting a hawk was a state and federal offense and that this offense was a felony, carrying potential prison time and fines of up to $25,000. The person then said s/he didn’t give a “rat’s ass” about state, federal or local laws. At this point I informed the person that if s/he was attempting to be a smartass or be funny, I had no sense of humor when protected wildlife is threatened—I’ve seen too many raptors who were victims of some jackass’s arrogant stupidity—and that I was copying our exchange to forward it to the appropriate authorities. I was then informed that the person didn’t make threats, s/he made promises.
Well, guess what? I don’t make threats, either, nor do I make promises. I take action. By law, I’m required to report suspected illegal activity. Someone making public comments about shooting a protected species sounds to me like illegal activity in the works, so you bet your sweet arse I reported it. A quick search gave me the person’s workplace and home addresses and phone numbers, and this information, along with screen caps of the conversation, have been sent to the appropriate state and federal authorities. What can they do, since no crime has yet been committed? Official phone calls to jackasses whose big talk probably compensates for lack of size in other areas will often have amazing effects in terms of reducing an overinflated ego to a size matching those aforementioned other areas…
I don’t play around when it comes to protecting my native wildlife, people. Don’t test me.
On to more pleasant—and some less pleasant—topics. If you’ll recall, in July I received a brown thrasher who’d been raised on a crap diet, with stress bars all in the tail feathers. I wasn’t sure how the bird would do, but I did have him in the flight pen. I’m happy to report that he’s been released!
Well, guess what? I don’t make threats, either, nor do I make promises. I take action. By law, I’m required to report suspected illegal activity. Someone making public comments about shooting a protected species sounds to me like illegal activity in the works, so you bet your sweet arse I reported it. A quick search gave me the person’s workplace and home addresses and phone numbers, and this information, along with screen caps of the conversation, have been sent to the appropriate state and federal authorities. What can they do, since no crime has yet been committed? Official phone calls to jackasses whose big talk probably compensates for lack of size in other areas will often have amazing effects in terms of reducing an overinflated ego to a size matching those aforementioned other areas…
I don’t play around when it comes to protecting my native wildlife, people. Don’t test me.
On to more pleasant—and some less pleasant—topics. If you’ll recall, in July I received a brown thrasher who’d been raised on a crap diet, with stress bars all in the tail feathers. I wasn’t sure how the bird would do, but I did have him in the flight pen. I’m happy to report that he’s been released!
Also, the two mockers from the last update have moved from flight pen to release and are doing well on their own. They half-heartedly beg for supplemental feedings from me and then fly away when I offer the food. It’s a mocker power trip thing…
The yellow bellied slider—the turtle I hit to avoid a head-on collision—has also been released. The little snot was bouncing off the walls…well, relatively speaking, of course. He was very active for a turtle—let’s phrase it that way. Every time I checked on him, he was looking for an escape route from his pen.
So I put his little reptilian butt out, thinking as active as he’d been I’d get some great photos of the release…wwwrrrooonnnnggg…You see below the best I could manage. For 30 solid minutes, I stood there with the camera at ready. He’d stick his head out a little, see me out of the corner of his eye, and draw his head back in. I finally gave up and walked away. Fifteen minutes later, the rascal had disappeared into the branch!
This box turtle wasn’t as lucky. The person who brought him to me was one of two people who stopped to move him out of the road and ended up watching in horror as some sorry excuse for a human deliberately hit him. There’s a special place in hell for people who get their jollies from deliberately harming an innocent animal.
I was 99% sure it was a lost cause, but I had to try and put Humpty together again. He was so alert and active; it would have been unfair not to try and give him a chance. Having no luck, I settled him down for the night with the thought that one of the vets at Smalley’s Animal Hospital might have better luck in the morning—they certainly had better equipment. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it through the night.
A screech owl with a dangling wing is usually indicative of a break. I couldn’t find a fracture in this little guy’s wing, but he did have an open wound on the back of the wing and a scraped cere. Vet Peggy Hobby at Smalley’s x-rayed him and confirmed we had no breaks, and she and I were quite pleased, as we’re both very fond of screeches. I took him home, gave him some mice for the night, and was shocked to find him dead the next morning. Nothing about his behavior was unusual or indicative of anything other than that sore wing. He just keeled over on his side in the corner of his box, next to his uneaten mice.
After the crow I mentioned in the last update succumbing to textbook West Nile virus (WNV) symptoms, I’m paranoid now, so I suspect WNV in the screech, too. Apparently when they contract it, it hits hard and fast.
After the crow I mentioned in the last update succumbing to textbook West Nile virus (WNV) symptoms, I’m paranoid now, so I suspect WNV in the screech, too. Apparently when they contract it, it hits hard and fast.
And this barred owl, who came in with what initially appeared to be a concussion, continued to progressively lose coordination and balance over the next several days. When the bird got no better, I took him in for an exam, and his lack of coordination, refusal to eat and generally depressed state led us to suspect yet another case of WNV. In this instance, however, we were able to preserve the carcass for testing, as vet Shelley Baumann’s husband Chris, a state wildlife biologist, decided, based on our descriptions of the bird’s behavior, that he needed to be tested. I don’t know when we’ll have results, but we will find out what led this bird to require euthanasia.
The older squirrels have opened their eyes; below is a shot of one of them on the morning his little eyes began opening.
They’re still mostly eating and sleeping at this point, so I don’t yet have any photos of them with fully open eyes.
They’re still mostly eating and sleeping at this point, so I don’t yet have any photos of them with fully open eyes.
This little fellow came in Friday; his eyes opened today. He’s a yawner—eat a while, yawn a little; eat some more, bigger yawn; more food, wider yawn…done eating, out cold. It’s hysterically funny to watch!
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