The good, the bad, and the beaver

Okay, so shoot me—it’s a horrible riff on the movie title, but it seems appropriate for a less-than-stellar week.

Mixing up the order of the header, let’s start with the bad news. Apparently this is my year to be lethal to Carolina wrens, as all four of last week’s new babies either died or had to be euthanized.  And my poor mystery birds, who turned out to be barn swallows, fared just as badly, with only one of them still with me today. Normally I have an 80-90% release rate for both species, and I’ve not changed my protocol for handling them, so I have no clue what’s going on. I just know it sucks, big time—and that’s putting it mildly.

The little runt finch died 24 hours after last week’s update, but the remaining three are now in the flight pen. One of them I really debated euthanizing, as she had a necrotic foot, caused by what appeared to be human hair wound around her leg. This is called a nest injury, for obvious reasons. The hair wound around the foot in the nest, cutting off the blood supply and slowly killing the tissue. Two of the toes are even fused together right at the claw.

Because finches are small, lightweight birds—and small birds can learn to compensate if one leg is damaged/useless—I decided to give her a chance; she’d never known what it was like to have two healthy legs, after all.

I’m happy to report that she’s compensating like a pro, flying and perching with no problems whatsoever.

The miracle bluebird was released late last week.  She bolted out of the flight pen, too quickly for a photo, and her flight was strong, straight and steady. I wish all my rehabs had this kind of outcome.

I haven’t mentioned the possums in a couple of updates, mainly because there’s not a lot to say at the moment. They’re possums; they eat, sleep and poop…sometimes I think all three in nearly equal amounts. Because these two were old enough to lap formula on their own when they came in, my job was made somewhat easier: all I have to do is make sure they have fresh food, formula, and water daily, as opposed to feedings every four hours.  The flip side of that is a lack of photos, as they tend to stay in their little hideout during the day. The other day they were both near enough the entrance that I could see their faces, so…we have a recent photo of the possums now!

This nestling mocker was found in a parking lot, and he serves as a prime example of why I prefer for people to get baby birds to me immediately. This guy was fed a mixture of canned cat food, water and sugar (don’t ask; I have no clue where THAT recipe came from), most of which he seemed to be wearing when I got him. In addition to wearing most of his food, he had diarrhea that was to the pure water stage and was so weak he could barely beg for food…and all this happened in the course of 24 hours that the finder possessed the bird.

To be honest, I didn’t hold out much hope for him, but I began feeding him the proper food, gave him a short bath to remove the worst of the crud covering his feathers, dried him off, put him on low heat, and hoped for the best.

While we still don’t have all the crud off the feathers—we have a one bath a day limit to prevent stripping his feathers of essential oils—he’s definitely looking better…and sounding better. He has his full-strength, grating mocker “feed me now” cry back in force.

This fledgling dove was found sopping wet in a thunderstorm. He’ll be in the flight pen tomorrow.

Apparently the waterfowl gods didn’t think a great blue heron was enough—a loon, that’s what I needed! This adult loon, in full breeding plumage, was found dragging himself by his wings across a farmer’s field. Loons are NOT land birds; they’re very breast-heavy and their legs are set too far back on their bodies for them to maneuver on land. Unfortunately, they’ll see what appears from the air to be water and crash land on pavement, metal roofs, in pools and even large puddles…and then they’re grounded, as they require a large strip of water to serve as a “runway” for flight takeoff.

After overnight observation to make sure everything functioned properly, I took Mr. Loon’s ill-tempered, aggressive butt to the river for release. He was quite a happy camper once he was in the water and put on quite a display of diving, exuberant surfacing and just plain swimming and calling. Loon calls are among the most haunting, gorgeous bird calls to me, and we don’t get to hear them often in the South. Loons are Northern birds; we only see/hear them during migration.

Late yesterday evening, this young wood duckling (app. a month old) came in. The finders saw him wandering alone near a lake, waited to see if Mama and sibs showed up, and when they didn’t, called me.  Wood ducklings are stressy, paranoid little things, but they’re also as cute as can be. He likes his feather duster surrogate mother, and he enjoyed his morning swim today.

And, of course, we’ll end with the now-obligatory Beaver Butt photos…still a brat, still growing like a weed (he’s off pears and on a blueberry/strawberry kick this week)…and still with me for the foreseeable future…I thought I’d found permanent placement for him in Savannah earlier this week, but that fell through. It’s unfathomable to me that no other rehabber in the state has a beaver kit and that no educational centers are looking for one!