The Aug. 1 squirrel has a buddy, approximately the same age, so they’re together now and are *thisclose* to their eyes opening. I expect to see little eyes peeping at me at every feeding! In the top photo, you can see—on the top squirrel—a little Quasimodo bulge between his shoulder blades: He came in severely dehydrated, and that bulge is from a fluid injection to rehydrate him quickly.
This adult fish crow—fish crows are slightly smaller than American crows—came in with no obvious signs of trauma but was unusually docile and quiet. When he refused to eat, I suspected I knew his problem but couldn’t say for sure…until he had his first grand mal seizure. I was feeding the squirrels when I heard a thump, followed by thrashing, and I stopped with the squirrels long enough to confirm what I was hearing. The second seizure, just minutes later, was fatal. The crow exhibited textbook West Nile Virus symptoms: docility, refusal/inability to eat, seizures and death. Some crows also exhibit lack of coordination and small head tremors, but I didn’t notice these in this bird.
His death capped off a crappy day that had started with the euthanasia of this barred owl, who was found by the side of the road and had an open fracture right at the elbow.
The same day, after the vet clinic had closed, I picked up this adult male red tailed hawk. The people who found him thought—as did I initially—that he’d been shot. There was a massive chunk of dried blood on his head, dried blood was all over his body, he was lethargic…I was convinced that when we x-rayed him at Smalley’s Animal Hospital the next morning, his x-rays would light up like a Christmas tree and show at least one wing fracture.
Before we could get to that point, however, I first had to de-maggot him, as he was crawling with the nasty little vermin—another reason I was sure he had massive injuries. After 45 minutes of bathing and thoroughly traumatizing him, we had a maggot-free bird, I was off rice for the next couple of weeks, and I was sure I’d traumatized him to the point he was going to die during the night. BUT…I could find no open wounds aside from a massively bruised jaw—just lots of dried blood, which is what had attracted the maggots, and a few hot spots.
The next morning, he was still with us but was holding his head in the most ungodly position. When I offered him a mouse, he jerked his head upright, took the mouse, and promptly shifted back to his contorted position, holding the mouse in his beak. He remained in this position until I closed up his box for transport to Smalley’s.
Vet Shelley Baumann examined him and agreed that aside from those few tender, raw-ish spots, he appeared injury-free. She isolated the source of the dried blood to around his ear, and we x-rayed his entire body to be sure there was no lead. He had no lead and no fractures, so we opted for worming and a round of antibiotics, to cover our bases.
By last night, he had recovered enough to eat on his own and to foot me when I was treating one of the hot spots to keep it from developing into an open sore. The stains you see on the puppy pad in this photo are my blood, not his! Not to worry, I’m fine, he appears to be recovering from whatever head trauma caused his ear to bleed so profusely, and if all continues to go well, he should make a full recovery.
By last night, he had recovered enough to eat on his own and to foot me when I was treating one of the hot spots to keep it from developing into an open sore. The stains you see on the puppy pad in this photo are my blood, not his! Not to worry, I’m fine, he appears to be recovering from whatever head trauma caused his ear to bleed so profusely, and if all continues to go well, he should make a full recovery.
Unfortunately, on the way home from the vet clinic, I saw a turtle in the road. He was too close to the shoulder for me to safely straddle him in that direction, as the shoulder was narrow and fell off to a steep embankment, so I opted to swerve over and ride the center line instead. Enter Car B, coming from the opposite direction and slightly over the center line. To avoid a head-on collision, I swerved back over to the center of my lane and hoped I could miss the turtle, but I clipped him instead.
Swearing at myself, the other driver and the turtle—a yellow-bellied slider—I pulled over and went back to retrieve him, hoping I hadn’t done any terminal damage. Luckily for the turtle and my incipient guilt complex, the damage—while substantial—was confined to his shell and wasn’t fatal.
Swearing at myself, the other driver and the turtle—a yellow-bellied slider—I pulled over and went back to retrieve him, hoping I hadn’t done any terminal damage. Luckily for the turtle and my incipient guilt complex, the damage—while substantial—was confined to his shell and wasn’t fatal.
I superglued his shell back together after consulting Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends, who cautioned that superglue isn’t the best shell bond, but it’s what I had on hand. The turtle remains active and alert, so his chances are looking good. And yes, even though rationally, I know it was better than hitting another car head-on or flipping off the shoulder into the creek, I still feel guilty for clipping the poor fellow…
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