It was a pretty typical week, if any week in a wildlife rehabber’s life can be called typical: intakes, DOAs, euthanasias and releases. Oh, and the scattered phone calls/messages from people determined that despite the fact that my voicemail clearly states I’m taking only birds and flying squirrels, I was gonna by-God take whatever critter they had. (Helpful hint for anyone else thinking of attempting that approach: don’t ever engage in a battle of wills with me. I promise you, you will lose.)
Where to begin? Let’s start with some good news: the brown thrashers and Carolina wrens have been released, although the thrashers in particular are still hanging around. Nothing slack about brown thrashers—I leave the flight pen door open and keep a dish inside stocked with mealworms, and when they can’t find enough outside, they dart in for a quick buffet. And they’ll still take formula, although they’re getting a bit shamefaced about that! Georgia’s legislators did at least one thing right in their long history of screw-ups when they chose the brown thrasher as our state bird. They’re pretty, smart, have pleasant voices, and are just generally delightful birds.
The first set of photos and video clips is the Carolina wrens; the second set is the brown thrashers.
Where to begin? Let’s start with some good news: the brown thrashers and Carolina wrens have been released, although the thrashers in particular are still hanging around. Nothing slack about brown thrashers—I leave the flight pen door open and keep a dish inside stocked with mealworms, and when they can’t find enough outside, they dart in for a quick buffet. And they’ll still take formula, although they’re getting a bit shamefaced about that! Georgia’s legislators did at least one thing right in their long history of screw-ups when they chose the brown thrasher as our state bird. They’re pretty, smart, have pleasant voices, and are just generally delightful birds.
The first set of photos and video clips is the Carolina wrens; the second set is the brown thrashers.
This poor cat-attacked adult great crested flycatcher didn’t even make it home. Rigor had set in by the time I walked in the door with her—and it was only a 15-minute drive to pick her up; 30 minutes round-trip. I say “her”; there’s actually no difference in male and female great cresteds, so…Point is, male or female, this time of year there were probably eggs or babies in the nest who lost a parent, meaning their chances of hatching/survival diminished pretty much to null.
I really thought maybe this female red-bellied woodpecker had a fighting chance when she came in. Her wounds also looked consistent with a cat attack and had already been covered with maggot eggs, but she was alert and feisty, so I cleaned the maggot eggs off, medicated the wounds and started her on meds. There may have been some fractures beneath all the bruising and swelling, but she didn’t make it through the night for me to get x-rays and find out. Again, she probably had eggs or babies in the nest who now will never hatch or die from hypothermia (hatchlings cannot regulate their body temperatures and must be brooded by the female in order to survive).
The arrows point to the numerous instances of maggot eggs under her wing.
Folks, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: cats belong INSIDE where they can’t murder songbirds. I don’t know how to get this point across to people who stubbornly refuse to grasp the concept that their cat is a natural predator and will hunt and kill prey whether s/he’s hungry or not. It’s just what cats do. Accept this fact and KEEP YOUR CATS INSIDE!!!
The young red shouldered hawk—and we’re all in general agreement now that that’s what he is—continues to be a paranoid, vocal little snot. His cries are so loud that I can honestly FEEL my eardrums vibrating as I feed him—and he refuses to even attempt self-feeding yet.
I love the close-up below, as you can see the down on his head really well. Doesn’t it strongly resemble dandelion fluff?!
The young red shouldered hawk—and we’re all in general agreement now that that’s what he is—continues to be a paranoid, vocal little snot. His cries are so loud that I can honestly FEEL my eardrums vibrating as I feed him—and he refuses to even attempt self-feeding yet.
I love the close-up below, as you can see the down on his head really well. Doesn’t it strongly resemble dandelion fluff?!
When the caller said this brancher/juvenile barred owl hit the side of his elderly mother’s house, waking her at 1AM and badly breaking his wing, I was a little surprised that a barred owl smacking a house could do the extensive damage the caller described. It didn’t seem to follow. When I got the poor fellow, I immediately told the caller, who picked up the bird from his mother’s and got it to me, that the damage wasn’t caused by hitting a house. This young barred owl had been attempting to escape from and possibly in the grasp of a great horned owl. When people talk about “nature taking its course,” THIS is a prime example of that phrase in action: no humans or human activity caused this damage. The open fracture on the right wing was a result of this poor little guy’s attempt to avoid being eaten, but it resulted in his having to be euthanized, anyway. And as I told another rehabber when we were discussing this very likely scenario, not only did the poor barred owl end up losing his life anyway, the GHO went hungry. Talk about a lose-lose situation…
When another caller early in the week said she’d found a mockingbird in the middle of the road, I really wasn’t surprised, even though the little nestling was much too young to be out of the nest. Unnested mockers seldom stay near their nests; they hop/walk/hobble to odd places like the middle of the road. This little guy had some mild bruising but was otherwise in good physical condition, or so it initially seemed. There was, however, something systemic going on with the poor little fellow. He sat in his own poop and slung/drooled food all over himself, necessitating a swab-down or outright bath nearly every single time he was fed. He also suffered from what we call “failure to thrive.” This means that while he was alive—barely—he wasn’t developing as he should have and was just generally not in good shape. As his condition continued to worsen, I made the decision to euthanize, as it seemed to be the kindest option for the poor baby. The photo below was post-feeding/pre-bathing.
The bluebird remains inconsistent: gape for one feeding, wait to be force-fed for the next. She also tends to be up and down physically; I honestly thought a couple of times this past week I was losing her, as well. When she’s “up” she’s a perky, vocal little sweetheart; when she’s “down” she breaks my heart as she sits silently, eyes closed. She also has issues flying, which she should be doing by now. She can barely break a fall, though. I’ve started interacting with her more than I normally do with rehabs, as there is a distinct possibility at this point that she might be nonreleasable. My goal and my fervent hope is to see her back in the wild where she belongs; if this turns out not to be the case, we’ll explore the possibilities of making her an educational bird, because she does have a wonderful little disposition.
No photos of the flyer this week, just a short video clip of her first experience with a pecan. She can’t decide whether to eat it on the spot or take it into her nest box and hide to chow down! The birdcall you hear as she bolts out of sight is actually my phone ringtone: brown thrasher.
And finally, we have two tiny bundles of impossible cuteness: when a resident near a local lake began pressure washing his boat, an odd noise made him stop. As he investigated, he found these two drenched, half-grown screech owls. As best I can guess, their nest may have been in some cavity on the boat and was destroyed during the pressure washing. They were hungry and somewhat bedraggled when they came in, and the finder was beside himself with worry over the little rascals. As a precautionary measure, in case they got water in their lungs during their unscheduled pressure washing, they’re on meds. They have healthy appetites, though, and are starting to try and tear at their own food, so that’s a good sign.
In this video clip, they’re pretty ravenous.
In this one, they’re satiated.
And this is just adorable! I dare you to watch this and not yawn and grin! This little guy’s belly was full and his eyes were heavy. He fought sleep valiantly, but sleep won…
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