It was a fairly slow week, with the usual mix of the good, the bad and the ugly…
First, though, a reminder that the LWR fundraiser is still ongoing. With 12 days left, you’ve donated—well, some of you have, anyway—$965 toward the $3000 goal. That’s about 32% of the goal.
In case you're wondering just how expensive mice to feed the raptors are, let me clue you in: first of the week, I placed an order for 6 bags of "crawler" mice (good for babies and debilitated adults), 5 bags of medium mice and 6 bags of large mice. That's 300 crawlers, 250 mediums and 300 large. The total bill? $564. Yeah, for those few mice.
How far will those—let's use the large—mice go? Well, currently LWR has four large raptors who eat 4 large mice a day. That’s 16 mice a day, times 7 days in a week; that’s 112 mice a week. 300 divided by 112 is...just under three weeks. THREE WEEKS. And that’s not including any new intakes; that’s just what’s currently “in house.” Then we'll switch to the mediums, which will disappear even quicker because it'll take more of them, and then I’ll dip into LWR’s ever-dwindling funds to order more mice. This is a regular routine, at least twice a month and sometimes thrice a month.
Feeding these birds ain't cheap, people. Every bit you can donate will help keep them fed.
And yes, I could “sell out” and more than likely easily have the funds if I accepted the occasional offers to be part of a reality TV show based on wildlife rehab. I hear those pay pretty well, but I also refuse to subject the wildlife under my care to that level of stress. I’ve read about how those shows are done, and I can promise you it’s not in the best interest of the animals. The most recent reality TV offer I had came just after Daddy’s death. Below is part of the reply I sent them:
Thanks for your interest in our native Southern wildlife...I don’t do this for publicity, reality shows or any such voyeuristic nonsense; the only reason I even have a FB page, website and blog is it’s necessary for LWR’s 501c3 status. Sorry to be so brief and abrupt but I’m really swamped and I honestly despise reality TV.
Yeah, I’m sure that didn’t win me any fans among the producers, but I don’t care. My job as a wildlife rehabber is to care for the critters in my care to the best of my ability, return as many as feasible to the wild, and humanely end the suffering of those that cannot be returned to the wild. It doesn’t include shoving them in front of TV cameras, under bright lights, to have multiple “takes” done of an exam so the producers can get the “perfect” shot. Screw ‘em. The welfare of the wildlife comes first, always.
And so I’m relegated to asking the public—that’s YOU—for donations to keep LWR up and running. Please do donate if you haven’t already.
First, though, a reminder that the LWR fundraiser is still ongoing. With 12 days left, you’ve donated—well, some of you have, anyway—$965 toward the $3000 goal. That’s about 32% of the goal.
In case you're wondering just how expensive mice to feed the raptors are, let me clue you in: first of the week, I placed an order for 6 bags of "crawler" mice (good for babies and debilitated adults), 5 bags of medium mice and 6 bags of large mice. That's 300 crawlers, 250 mediums and 300 large. The total bill? $564. Yeah, for those few mice.
How far will those—let's use the large—mice go? Well, currently LWR has four large raptors who eat 4 large mice a day. That’s 16 mice a day, times 7 days in a week; that’s 112 mice a week. 300 divided by 112 is...just under three weeks. THREE WEEKS. And that’s not including any new intakes; that’s just what’s currently “in house.” Then we'll switch to the mediums, which will disappear even quicker because it'll take more of them, and then I’ll dip into LWR’s ever-dwindling funds to order more mice. This is a regular routine, at least twice a month and sometimes thrice a month.
Feeding these birds ain't cheap, people. Every bit you can donate will help keep them fed.
And yes, I could “sell out” and more than likely easily have the funds if I accepted the occasional offers to be part of a reality TV show based on wildlife rehab. I hear those pay pretty well, but I also refuse to subject the wildlife under my care to that level of stress. I’ve read about how those shows are done, and I can promise you it’s not in the best interest of the animals. The most recent reality TV offer I had came just after Daddy’s death. Below is part of the reply I sent them:
Thanks for your interest in our native Southern wildlife...I don’t do this for publicity, reality shows or any such voyeuristic nonsense; the only reason I even have a FB page, website and blog is it’s necessary for LWR’s 501c3 status. Sorry to be so brief and abrupt but I’m really swamped and I honestly despise reality TV.
Yeah, I’m sure that didn’t win me any fans among the producers, but I don’t care. My job as a wildlife rehabber is to care for the critters in my care to the best of my ability, return as many as feasible to the wild, and humanely end the suffering of those that cannot be returned to the wild. It doesn’t include shoving them in front of TV cameras, under bright lights, to have multiple “takes” done of an exam so the producers can get the “perfect” shot. Screw ‘em. The welfare of the wildlife comes first, always.
And so I’m relegated to asking the public—that’s YOU—for donations to keep LWR up and running. Please do donate if you haven’t already.
And speaking of wildlife, both the red tail and the barred owl did have wing fractures near the wrist, as I suspected—and both fractures were in approximately the same location, leading vet Peggy Hobby at Smalley’s to exclaim, “It’s the injury of the day, apparently!”
Luckily, neither fracture was badly displaced, and we’re hopeful they’ll both heal for flight. That close to the joint, it may be iffy. We’ll see.
The barred owl does also have some clouding in his left eye but that should clear with time. He’s a pretty calm fellow.
Luckily, neither fracture was badly displaced, and we’re hopeful they’ll both heal for flight. That close to the joint, it may be iffy. We’ll see.
The barred owl does also have some clouding in his left eye but that should clear with time. He’s a pretty calm fellow.
The red tail, however, is a feisty first-year bird who refuses to acknowledge that he needs cage rest. I’m not his favorite person right now, ‘cause I refuse to allow him to attempt to fly away with a broken wing. Go figure, right? But he eats well!
While we were working on these two beauties, a vulture was dropped off at Smalley’s, as well. (I'd spoken to the person on the phone while awaiting vet exams on the hawk and owl and told him to bring the bird to Smalley's.) He was a first-year turkey vulture whose x-rays showed no fractures but he was severely neurological. Peggy and I agreed that given the level of neurological issues the bird was having—unable to stand, unable to lift his head, unable to keep his eyes open more than a few seconds—our kindest option was euthanasia.
The Carolina wren hatchlings and eggs survived the night; both eggs hatched, sort of. One hatched and died by noon; the other broke open enough shell to expose his beak and feet and died before completing his hatch. This all happened before 6AM, as I found the poor unsuccessful hatch first thing that morning. Throughout the day, the original two hatchlings also died. Honestly, I think they get something akin to mammal colostrum from their parents’ saliva, and probiotics just aren’t a sufficient substitute.
The Carolina wren hatchlings and eggs survived the night; both eggs hatched, sort of. One hatched and died by noon; the other broke open enough shell to expose his beak and feet and died before completing his hatch. This all happened before 6AM, as I found the poor unsuccessful hatch first thing that morning. Throughout the day, the original two hatchlings also died. Honestly, I think they get something akin to mammal colostrum from their parents’ saliva, and probiotics just aren’t a sufficient substitute.
The older Caros were doing quite well and then started crashing. It’s a cyclical thing—for several years I had great success with wrens; then my release rate dropped to almost nil for the past few years. They’re such stressy little birds…
The finch and mocker were released. I’d released them before I realized I had no photos of them in the songbird flight—been a busy editing week, with back-to-back deadlines, so it just didn’t cross my mind till it was too late. Neither is coming down for handouts but I do occasionally see and hear them.
A nestling mocker was found on the ground and brought to LWR early in the week; he’d been seen very early in the day but the original spotter “didn’t want to get whacked in the head” by the parents, so he was left on the ground, exposed to the elements, all day. People, mockers are SONGBIRDS. If they whack you in the head, it’s not even gonna sting like an NCIS Gibbs-style head slap, okay? I mean, really…
At any rate, the poor fellow was in pretty bad shape and, adding insult to injury, he was dumped into a plastic container with water in the bottom, so when he reached LWR, he was weak, lethargic, soaked and chilled to the bone. He didn’t survive the night.
The finch and mocker were released. I’d released them before I realized I had no photos of them in the songbird flight—been a busy editing week, with back-to-back deadlines, so it just didn’t cross my mind till it was too late. Neither is coming down for handouts but I do occasionally see and hear them.
A nestling mocker was found on the ground and brought to LWR early in the week; he’d been seen very early in the day but the original spotter “didn’t want to get whacked in the head” by the parents, so he was left on the ground, exposed to the elements, all day. People, mockers are SONGBIRDS. If they whack you in the head, it’s not even gonna sting like an NCIS Gibbs-style head slap, okay? I mean, really…
At any rate, the poor fellow was in pretty bad shape and, adding insult to injury, he was dumped into a plastic container with water in the bottom, so when he reached LWR, he was weak, lethargic, soaked and chilled to the bone. He didn’t survive the night.
The week ended with the arrival of an adult red shoulder who’d apparently been seen by the roadside for several days before any-damn-body decided to take action. He was starvation-thin—see the photo of his exposed keel (breastbone)—and he had an open wing fracture. Maggots had already eaten most of the flesh from the wing, as well. He was humanely euthanized.
The last of the MIKIs to come in, the one who wasn’t released last week, spent two days in the raptor flight, without flying that I ever saw, before apparently dropping dead during the night. He wasn’t near a wall, so I don’t think he broke his neck—especially given that I never saw him fly at all, despite having no fractures. There was apparently something else going on with the poor fellow.
The screech is slated for the raptor flight this week, to be followed by the great horneds as quickly as possible.
It’s a constant juggling act with these birds!
The screech is slated for the raptor flight this week, to be followed by the great horneds as quickly as possible.
It’s a constant juggling act with these birds!
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