The Christmas Bobcat

I received a phone call from Kari Freidig Saturday morning, two days after Christmas 2008, that she had just called Laurel about an injured bobcat that needed to be picked up along Highway 20, and to call Laurel if I was interested in helping. It took me all of a nanosecond to decide I wanted to be involved in this rescue. I quickly called Laurel and got the only particulars that she had, which was that these people were at Highway 20 and Penn Valley Drive with an injured bobcat underneath their truck.

Evidently, this family (a couple and their teenage son) had been driving along Hwy. 20 toward Grass Valley and saw a small bobcat alongside the road that appeared to be injured. They made a U-turn and went back, parking in a large dirt area next to the road. When they crossed the road to check it out, the cat tried to run from them, but unable to use its back legs, dragged itself across the highway and went under their parked truck, probably because it was the only refuge around. They called WR&R, and after almost an hour that it took us to find them, we finally got to them. They were wonderful to have first of all called us, and secondly, waited in the cold for an hour until we arrived. I grabbed the thick leather raptor gloves I had invested in a few months back, and which I always keep in the trunk of my car. Laurel and Eric had gloves as well, a large animal carrier, a towel and blanket. The little cat (it probably was only a few months old) was terrified and huddled underneath the truck against the passenger side front tire. While Eric distracted it from the front, I went around from the back (it had its back to me) and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. I didn’t expect its reaction to be so violent. In an instant, it tried to turn itself inside out, hissing, growling, biting, scratching (thank goodness for good leather gloves!), squirmed out of my grip and dragged itself toward the driver side of the truck, which was also toward the road. The family who owned the truck was on that side to prevent it from going back onto the highway, so it turned and dragged itself back to the same tire as it had been huddled next to. It had no use of its back legs, which was not at all a good sign. So I again grabbed the back of its neck and was determined not to let it go this time. I finally pulled it out from under the truck, put it into the carrier, and we were off to the wonderful people at Mother Lode Vet Hospital, who Laurel had already called so they were expecting us. The cat was small, probably a little smaller than my large cat, Hobbit, but not as heavy.

Despite not having lights and sirens to make people get out of the way (which I was dearly wanting at that point!), we got to the vet quickly and were ushered around the back of the building into the isolation room. While we waited for Dr. Tim VanGeem to come in, the fierce little cat rumbled low growls, warning us to keep away from it. When Dr. Tim came in, we explained that it had been hit by a car (as opposed to being sick), and we wanted him to see if there was any possibility of saving it. He gave her a sedative, which took about 10 minutes to take effect. These pictures are when the cat is sedated, and you can see the badly mangled back leg.

We took advantage of the cat being out, and couldn’t help petting her beautiful spotted coat, touching her little tufted ears, and remarking on how big her feet were. He took x-rays of the cat’s legs and back, and, his face grave, gave us the bad news. Not only was one of the back legs so badly shattered it probably wouldn't have been able to be mended, but her back was totally broken, with one part of the spine resting on top of the other part at the break. There was absolutely no help for her, and he had no choice but to put her out of her suffering.

I cried for this gorgeous fierce little wild cat whose life was cut short way too soon. She never really even had a chance, and she was so young. Despite having such grievous injuries, she had an amazing fighting spirit in that little broken body that went beyond the physical. The only good news was that she probably was not in any pain, since her spinal cord had been severed. She was terrified and in shock, but fought bravely until she just couldn't fight any more. After that, she wasn't aware of anything, and then just went to sleep forever. It was a sad, sad morning. That we couldn't save this incredibly fierce but beautiful little being was very hard to accept.

After leaving the vet’s office, I took my dog, Kala, for a walk at Empire Mine State Park. I couldn’t help thinking that the little cat would no longer be able to stalk through the wet pine needles in the forest looking for prey, feeling the cold air on her face, and listening to the birds scolding her overhead. She would never be able to grow up, raise a family, or do any of the things that wild bobcats do. Sometimes life is just not fair.

Houdini

Then there was Houdini. A handsome young red-tailed hawk, I picked him up (meeting the guy in Marysville) on my way home from the Bay Area one Sunday in July 2009. He was fresh out of the nest, almost fully feathered, but not quite well enough for him to fly. He had been found on the ground in a field by a rancher who knew that he wouldn’t make it through the night if he was left on the ground, as there are a lot of coyotes and other predators that roam his ranch after the sun goes down.

He was perfect in every other way, so we fed him and waited for his flight feathers to fully grow in.

One day, I was notified that the bird accidentally escaped. Unfortunately, he still had his tail-guard on (we put plastic “guards” on their tails to keep the feathers from getting torn or broken when they’re in a cage), and we were all very concerned that this might hamper his ability to fly.

The following day, one of the volunteers was feeding the other rehab birds in the outside cages, and put down a couple of trays with food (dead rats) in them, while she was putting another tray inside one of the cages. She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see a red-tailed hawk fly down out of a tree and snatch a rat from one of the trays – it was the red-tailed hawk that had escaped! We normally do not name our rehab birds, but after his escape, he was aptly dubbed “Houdini.” He recognized the trays we use for feeding the birds and seemed to be sticking around, so we began putting plans together to try to capture him.

One of our plans was to set a trap for him, by tying a dead rat down into a tray so that when he tried to fly off with it, the tray would hamper his progress and we would be able to throw a net over him. Nothing worked. Houdini was definitely living up to his name. It was very frustrating, since we could see him in the trees around the clinic, practically thumbing his nose (if he had a thumb and a nose) at us. We felt it a good sign, however, that he was staying around.

Within a couple of days, when someone else was out feeding the outside birds, he came down and grabbed a rat that was too large for him to carry off, so he struggled across the ground with it in one foot, refusing to let go, and was caught just before he made it through to the other side of the fence.

Finally back in custody, we put him in the flight cage to strengthen his wing muscles, and when we were sure he was flying well, and hunting live prey successfully, it was time for me to release him! We are supposed to release the birds within 3 miles of where they were found, unless it would be to their detriment (for instance, if they had been shot or poisoned).

So, one bright, sunny Saturday, a small group of us drove about an hour to the little town of Sutter, back to the ranch he was found on. The family whose ranch it was, all wanted to be there for the release, so in 3 vehicles, we made our way down the dirt roads to the very field he was found in. After letting the kids see him up close, I turned to the field, told him to catch lots of mice, let him look around and get his bearings, and threw him into the air. He flew straight out over the field without looking back, landing on a fence post separating the two fields. He sat there for a few minutes, then launched into the air again. My good friend, Sylvia, videotaped the release. Click here to watch it: Houdini Release

As we began to get in our cars and leave, I looked back to see him soaring over the field, higher and higher, doing what he was made to do – flying free! None of us will ever forget Houdini and his story, and we all wish him a long and healthy life.

Don't Look in His Eyes

Lost in the wild depths of his fiery eyes;

Reluctantly pulling my own away;

He continues to glare.

What is he thinking?

What does he make of this strange being holding him?

He was made to be free.

And so he shall be.

God speed, beautiful one.

From the Ashes

When I first saw her, I thought she was dead. Lying on her side on a blanket in the box, her eyes were closed, legs out stiff. When I reached in and felt her, she barely moved.

Assuring Jolene, who had rescued her, that I would do everything in my power to save this beautiful red-tailed hawk, I raced to the clinic. There, Mike Furtado met me and, despite having his dinner interrupted (as had I), the two of us quickly began our examination. From initially looking at her, there appeared to be no immediate injury, other than the fact that she continued to lie on the table motionless, not opening her eyes.

She had been found standing on the double yellow line in the middle of a busy 4-lane road in Chico. She had obviously been hit and was stunned as cars and trucks raced within inches of her, the wind from their tires buffeting her as she tried to stand up. Her guardian angel was certainly on her shoulder that day, as Jolene saw her as she drove by, turned around and stopped, then raced through a break in the traffic to save her. We gently lifted her right wing and I was horrified to see two large open raw wounds on her side. I’d never seen such a grievous injury on a bird. Mike asked “have you ever sewed up a bird before?” I said no, and he said “well, you will now.”

We first hydrated her and gave her injections for both pain and to fight infection. Numbing the wounds, we began cleaning and preparing them for suturing. He and I bent over the bird, intent on what we needed to do. We both had a hemostat in each hand and worked as a team. He would insert the needle, I would get a hold of it and pull it through, he would then take it back and make a loop, I’d finish the loop and we’d go to the next stitch. Considering I’d never done anything like that before, I was proud of myself for putting aside my intense emotional sympathetic feelings for this beautiful bird, and just concentrated on doing the best job I could.

During our ministrations, she just lay there, eyes closed, except for once when she summoned one short burst of energy and stood up, shaky but defiant, wings out, glaring at us. But it took too much out of her and she sank back down again. The rest of the time we worked on her, she continued to lie there, motionless, eyes closed, breathing slowly (something you don’t ever want to see in a wild bird).

We finally finished and, bandaging and wrapping her, gently put her back in the box she had arrived in. I left to go meet Laurel and Eric, who would take over her intensive care at their house. It was dark by then and I looked at the clock as I drove away from the clinic. I couldn’t believe it had been two hours since I had brought her in.

I met Laurel and Eric in the Kmart parking lot (isn’t that where all “bird deals” are done?). They were expecting a hawk on the verge of death, and they got one. I told them not to be surprised if she didn’t make it through the night. I was amazed she had even made it through our “surgery.”

Every time I woke up during that night, she was the first thing I thought of. The next morning, I tried to concentrate on work, but just couldn’t get her out of my mind. Finally, an email came through from Laurel – the hawk was still with us! I knew she was in the best of care, as they seem to do wonders with the really dire cases. We had been told early on in our rehabbing that if a bird makes it the first three days, they have a good chance of surviving. She had two more days to go.

The next afternoon, I went over to Laurel’s after work to see her for myself, and held her as Laurel hand-fed her. She was alert, eyes open, and looked like a different bird, other than the purple “vet wrap” we had wrapped her body and one wing with. She had been taken to Dr. Susan Klopfer the previous day, who said Mike and I had done an excellent job sewing her up. Laurel confided in me that she had slept in their guest room Sunday night, with the bird in the box by the bed, so that if the bird struggled in the night (which she had), Laurel was instantly awake to make sure she was OK.
I breathed easier as each day went by. I was given daily updates on her recovery by Laurel. She became stronger as she remained on antibiotics and pain medication, and she was eating well. Her wounds continued to heal quickly and perfectly, and within only a few days the bandage and wrap was off. She was treated for internal parasites that she had come to us with, and was soon moved to a large outside cage at Laurel and Eric’s, where she thrived, feeding on live mice that were put in her cage every day.
Then came the day of her release. The family who had rescued her had turned out to watch.
I blessed her and held her out. She looked around...
...finally flew,
...and, like the phoenix, had risen from the ashes of near-death, to life and freedom once again. I turned and watched her soaring, the wind once again under her wings.

Can't Save Them All

My heart sank when I saw him in the box. He was so small and helpless, eyes closed, covered with burrs that were sticking his wing to the towel beneath him, at a strange angle. At first I thought he was dead, and had to touch him to assure myself he wasn’t.

I hustled the fledgling Western screech owl into my car already filled with people, and put the box on Jaime’s lap. It was her job to gently start picking the burrs out of his feathers as I drove as fast as I dared to Laurel’s house, fully expecting him not to make it.

She was waiting with the bird emergency first aid kit. We immediately sub-Q’d him with Lactate Ringers. He didn’t even open his eyes. Looking in his mouth, we were shocked to see it completely dry and totally white. He was worse than any bird either of us had seen since we started rehabbing.

I noticed a small black dot crawling on my hand. We realized he was covered with them, burrowing into his skin, sucking the life out of him. They were some sort of tick. Not only was he completely dehydrated, but he was extremely anemic, as well.

We began heating towels in the microwave, spraying them with bird lice spray, and wrapping him in them. We took turns holding him to keep him warm, and kept giving him fluids about every 30 minutes. My sister Nancy, niece Sachiko and her friend Jaime were all very concerned and wanting to help by taking turns holding him in the warm towel.

We finally had to tear ourselves away, since we had other plans waiting for us. None of us wanted to leave him, although I knew in my heart that he was in the absolute best hands he could be in.

I had a sinking feeling, but tried to think positively about him. I called Laurel later, and when she asked “did you get my message?”, I knew what that message was.

Of course I know we can’t save them all, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier to hear that he had just been too far gone. Mother Nature evidently had other plans for him.


(July 2009)

Minnesota Raptor Center

In October 2009, Laurel, Kim and I made a trip across the country to the University of MN Raptor Center for a 4-day intensive workshop on the Care and Management of Captive Raptors. It changed my life. Here is a summary of that trip:

We felt very welcomed as soon as we walked into the Raptor Center (www.raptor.cvm.umn.edu).
Gail (the Director) greeted us with smiles and name tags on strings (which we wore around our necks each day), as well as a "padfolio" with note pad and various printouts, including a CD that has the whole workshop on it (all the PowerPoint presentations we saw, hand outs we got, etc.). All of us then went into a large room with tiered seating for the first session. They always had a room with snacks (they also had a continental breakfast each morning), drinks that included sodas, water, teas, coffee, and hot chocolate. We were taken on a tour of the Center: upstairs, downstairs and outside to see some of the outside mews where the educational birds are kept. Their ed birds include 4 bald eagles, at least 4 great horned owls, 3 or 4 red-tailed hawks, a couple of peregrines, a barn owl, a barred owl, a merlin, a couple of beautiful and darling red Eastern screech owls, and some kestrels. They have over 300 volunteers that work there, and in 2008 took in over 7,000 raptors to rehab. They have a clinic downstairs that has about 3-5 veterinarians who are there at any given time, 4 tables (complete with anesthesia), an x-ray room - just like a veterinarian's office. A very busy place, as you can imagine. More on that later.

The first two days were mainly sessions in the room with PowerPoint presentations and talking. There were about 20 people in the class, and usually 4 or 5 people giving different presentations (and who were with us all 4 days). The last 2 days were mainly hands-on with both the ed birds as well as in the clinic downstairs, during which we would break into groups. Some of our classmates were from zoos, some were from the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Dept, some from other rehab facilities, some from parks that have captive raptors. Some people were experienced, some not. The neat thing was that everyone there was into raptors, and we were surrounded by a plethora of people whose lives are filled with raptors every day. We were immersed in it for 4 days and loved every minute of it.

The first day (Tuesday) there wasn't an evening session, but Wednesday and Thursday there were optional evening classes, which we took. One was how to make "biofacts," which are where you take pieces of already dead birds (wings, legs & feet), prepare and dry them for 3 weeks, and then have them for showing people (for classes and other public events). I did a wing, which was really interesting. WR&R would have to apply for a "Salvage" permit from the state and the Feds before we could do this and use them for educational purposes. Because of the permits and laws, we were not able to take home the biofacts we all made, they belong to the Raptor Center, but we now know how to make our own. The worst part was having to cut the wing off the bird, but it also helped us see how and where the bones are, how they're all connected, etc.

The other optional class was learning how to "crate" and tether your ed bird - putting them in and taking them out of a carrier (there's a whole certain way to do that), and how to properly tether your bird on a perch on the ground where it's not going to get tangled or hurt. So, Wednesday and Thursday we left the hotel at 8:00 in the morning and got back about 9:00 that night overloaded and exhausted, but high at the same time.

We also watched necropsies (like an autopsy on a person, but they call it a necropsy if it's on an animal) on two hawks and an owl. It was fascinating to see the actual parts of the bird that we have seen in books. It's not the same as a picture, when you see it for real.

One of the things I loved the most was was when we worked in the clinic. It was all hands-on: learning how to properly sub-Q fluids, how to cope beaks (where the beak on a captive bird tends to grow too long, because they aren't doing what they would do in the wild to keep it taken care of), how to do wing wraps, foot wraps, hold the head for exams, and just a myriad of little things to improve how we do things. I actually got to sub-Q a bald eagle! And so did Laurel. At any one time, all 4 tables were full with people working on birds, with at least 2 or 3 other volunteers standing in the room waiting for a table to clear while they were holding more birds that needed to have something done to them. It was amazing, amazing, amazing. We were a part of it, not just observers. Everyone there was very patient, always willing to answer questions, always there to help guide us if we weren't sure what we were doing.



We practiced coping on dead birds before we were OK'd to do it on live birds. I coped the beak of a beautiful cream-colored red-tail (see below pictures) that had been flying over a methane burner when it ignited (I guess that's a real problem back east, where birds will sit on the top of these huge pipes in factories because it's warm, and then a giant ball of flame shoots out to burn the methane off and incinerates the bird), and it singed and burned off all the feathers from its wings and tail. It was awful - I felt so sorry for this poor bird. Most of the feathers were just the shaft, with no feathering on them. They will have to keep him in captivity until next year when it molts and grows all new feathers. Luckily his legs and belly were not burned so he wasn't in pain, and he has a good chance of being released.
Most injuries were wing breaks, although some were shot with pellets (including a turkey vulture).

It was an incredible and invaluable trip, and one that I will never, ever forget.

A Day In The Life of a Rehabber

When I first entered the small apartment and saw him in the middle of the round kitchen table under a bright overhead light and surrounded by 5 young adults, I knew with certainty I had to get him out of there as soon as I could.

It had already been a long day, that Sunday after Christmas. I’d had two calls before this one, the first of which took care of itself when the hawk that had flown into a window, flew off when it came to its senses. The second call didn’t have such a good outcome.

It was a barn owl that had been found on the side of a road the night before, more than likely the result of a collision with a car. She was in bad shape, not standing and with extreme head trauma, recognizable from the non-responsive pupil in one of her eyes and the bruising and swelling in one of her ears. She was thin and dehydrated, but luckily did not appear to have any wing or leg injuries. As usual, my heart went out to her and silently I vowed I’d do everything I could for this beautiful creature. Karen Koskey and I examined and hydrated her before taking her to the “ICU,” aka: Laurel and Eric Gunderson’s house, for round-the-clock care.

I had just gotten back home when I received my next call, this time for a “baby owl,” found alongside Brunswick Road. Knowing there are no baby owls at this time of year, and from the description of the owl over the phone, I assured the caller that it was probably a Northern pygmy owl, about 4-1/2 inches tall fully grown. He was shocked to hear this tiny owl was an adult. It’s funny how many people, when they see a small bird, assume it’s a baby. Baby raptors look nothing like their parents and by the time they do, they’re the same size as the parents and don’t look like babies anymore!

Anyway, I arrived at the apartment complex and was met by the man who had called me. Following him upstairs, I walked into an apartment full of people (he’d invited the neighbors to see the owl, as well). That’s when I saw him in a small box in the middle of the table, while people sat around talking and taking pictures of him. Taking all this in, I could immediately tell the poor little bird was showing obvious signs of distress, so I gently put the lid on the box to shield him from the bright light and all the people. As quickly as I could, I took down the information I needed and drove over to Laurel & Eric’s, since it was closer than the clinic, so that I could examine him more closely.

We could find nothing obviously wrong with this darling little owl, other than the fact he was not nearly as active or fierce as he should be. He was in good body weight and not dehydrated, so we put him in a carrier in a quiet back room to recuperate from his ordeal.

We then turned our attention to the barn owl that we’d brought in earlier. We were almost afraid what we’d find when we opened the box, and were very pleasantly surprised to find her standing! Granted, she was leaning against the inside of the box, but she was upright, which was more than she had been a few hours earlier when she was first brought in. Things seemed to be looking up for this beautiful bird, but she still had a long way to go.

While working on these two owls, I received 2 more rescue calls, one of which was a turkey vulture that Kristin Rodriguez, one of our songbird rehabbers, was bringing in, after she found it by the side of a road. I’ve been on call on Sundays for almost 3 years and have never had 5 calls!

Epilogue: The little pygmy owl was happily released on New Year’s Eve, as was the turkey vulture that had come in that same day. The beautiful barn owl continues to improve slowly, and as soon as she starts eating on her own, she will join the other two from that day, flying free in the skies once again.