…and this rehabber, at least, has had a busier than usual pre-Christmas weekend. Maybe that will mean no calls on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day! (And I probably just jinxed myself…)
All week long, it was sloooow at LWR. Constant rain predictions that turned into less moisture than if I’d just walked outside and spat meant that I couldn’t release the barred owl, so he’s still a very unhappy guest at the moment. We’re aiming at a possible Christmas Eve release if the weather clears.
The flyers—all 7—are increasingly camera-shy, so while I see them eating and being adorable, the second I break out the camera, the little sweethearts scurry to the safety of their nests, so…sorry, no new pix of them this week…
After a week of no new activity, Friday a gentleman called with an osprey he’d found in his cotton field in Toombs County, south of me. We met, and a quick parking lot exam showed a thinnish bird—although it’s hard to tell with ospreys pre-weighing, because they’re naturally skinny birds, anyway—with several broken flight feathers and a scab on the right wing. Nothing seemed broken, and he had a death grip on a half-eaten bass, so I boxed him and took him to Smalley’s Animal Hospital, where an exam by vet Peggy Hobby confirmed no fractures. Peggy clipped the broken feathers while we had four hands available—mine to control and hers to clip. His little heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and I’ve never had even the most spastic bird have that kind of elevated heart rate. He had not pooped at that point, so we had no poop for a fecal to test for parasites.
All week long, it was sloooow at LWR. Constant rain predictions that turned into less moisture than if I’d just walked outside and spat meant that I couldn’t release the barred owl, so he’s still a very unhappy guest at the moment. We’re aiming at a possible Christmas Eve release if the weather clears.
The flyers—all 7—are increasingly camera-shy, so while I see them eating and being adorable, the second I break out the camera, the little sweethearts scurry to the safety of their nests, so…sorry, no new pix of them this week…
After a week of no new activity, Friday a gentleman called with an osprey he’d found in his cotton field in Toombs County, south of me. We met, and a quick parking lot exam showed a thinnish bird—although it’s hard to tell with ospreys pre-weighing, because they’re naturally skinny birds, anyway—with several broken flight feathers and a scab on the right wing. Nothing seemed broken, and he had a death grip on a half-eaten bass, so I boxed him and took him to Smalley’s Animal Hospital, where an exam by vet Peggy Hobby confirmed no fractures. Peggy clipped the broken feathers while we had four hands available—mine to control and hers to clip. His little heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and I’ve never had even the most spastic bird have that kind of elevated heart rate. He had not pooped at that point, so we had no poop for a fecal to test for parasites.
Once home, I started the osprey on antibiotics and made arrangements to transfer him to Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends Raptor Rehab Saturday morning. Steve has a goodly supply of fish and more experience in dealing with the personality quirks of ospreys—and despite this guy’s half-eaten bass, he refused the fish I offered him, so I was more than happy to send him packing after an overnight stay.
Once he had the bird, Steve agreed that there’s something “off” with him, even for an osprey, the heart rate is “not right”, and as of yesterday, he wasn’t eating for Steve, either. He’s going to try to get a fecal run and has started some prophylactic meds in addition to the antibiotics, so that’s where we stand right now—meds, observation, and time. I’ll update you as I receive updates from Steve on his condition.
Friday evening, I got a call about a “baby” bird. Since this is the wrong time of year for babies, I figured the caller had either a screech owl or a small adult songbird of some sort. When I asked her for a description, her description sounded as if she had an adult chickadee—which, in fact, it was. He’d been found on the ground in some leaves and seemed sluggish and out of it. He remained very calm when I got him home and was setting up his digs for the night—calm enough to eventually perch on my finger for photos. To be honest, while chickadees have been known to land on people’s heads and glasses, this sort of calm always worries me. Still, he had no injuries, so I figured we’d just see what Saturday morning held.
Friday evening, I got a call about a “baby” bird. Since this is the wrong time of year for babies, I figured the caller had either a screech owl or a small adult songbird of some sort. When I asked her for a description, her description sounded as if she had an adult chickadee—which, in fact, it was. He’d been found on the ground in some leaves and seemed sluggish and out of it. He remained very calm when I got him home and was setting up his digs for the night—calm enough to eventually perch on my finger for photos. To be honest, while chickadees have been known to land on people’s heads and glasses, this sort of calm always worries me. Still, he had no injuries, so I figured we’d just see what Saturday morning held.
What the morning held was an exhausted little bird still sleeping when I walked in with the camera to check on him. It was too cute a photo op to resist.
He woke up shortly afterward, alert and chipper. When I reached in to check him over one more time, he flitted right past my hand and flew beautifully, so I opted to release him rather than stress him out with another day of captivity.
Unfortunately, this adult cardinal wasn’t as lucky. I actually found him in my own yard Saturday morning. His eyes and nose were clear, his breathing was normal, his feathers were in good shape, he was fairly well fleshed…but he was grounded. He attempted to fly—and I think he could have flown at least a short distance—when I netted him, but a cardinal sitting hunched on the open ground…well, it just ain’t right. I took him in, started antibiotics, and gave him food and water in his box. Given his strong grip with his beak and his normal level of cardinal aggression, I was pretty sure he was going to be an eventual release. Two hours later, he was dead. I don’t know if he was just an older bird at the end of his lifespan or if he’d gotten into some sort of poison—I just don’t know. Here’s another example of when it would be nice to have access to two or three “courtesy” necropsies a year from UGA.
For those of you who would still like to donate to LWR’s 2014 rehab efforts, the 2014 calendars are still available through Lulu.com: http://www.lulu.com/shop/laurens-wildlife-rescue-2014-calendar/calendar/product-21282459.html?showPreview=true. Remember that all proceeds above Lulu.com’s fees will be used to fund LWR’s operations next year—and we all need calendars, so why not get one that also benefits LWR? The button below will take you directly to the Lulu site and add a calendar to your shopping cart automatically. There’s currently a 10% discount on the calendars, and as an added bonus, Lulu.com is offering free shipping from now through Dec. 24 if you use the code FREESHIP, so you’ve still got a couple of days to take advantage of that deal. We’re up to eight calendars sold thus far.
And finally, I leave you with this parting thought:
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