Looking back- Part 1

With the migration season upon us, I have very little time to catch my breath before I become very busy with rehabilitating raptors that have not made the migration successfully. Already, we have received in our rehabilitation program two peregrine falcons, three red shouldered hawks, one cooper hawk, one merlin, and one american kestrel.

As I was browsing through my pictures from this last year, it occurred to me that we were blessed with some amazing experiences and some tremendous outcomes that are worth remembering.

Baby season began this year in a rather usual fashion, but quickly progressed to include orphans that we usually don't see at our center. Screech owl orphans always come in by the dozens and this year was no different. We are however ready for them as usual. We are fortunate to have a foster mom that is able to raise the youngsters and provide a necessary role model for them as they grow and develop into adults.






The "teenagers" then progress to hunting school and are offered a variety of live prey to assess their hunting skills. When they have successfully completed this stage of their rehabilitation, they are placed with a group of screech owls to develop and continue their hunting skills before the final stage, hacking.


This "hack box" provides a safe place for the young screech owls to survey their surroundings for a few days before the doors are opened to allow them to fly out at their leisure. They are given food and water while inside the box, but human contact is kept to a minimum to allow them to fully identify with their new surroundings.



Our first challenge came in the form of a notoriously difficult patient, the osprey. Fresh from a rehabilitation conference, I was ready for this challenge. I had attended a class which spoke of the advantages of reuniting young raptors with their parents instead of raising them in captivity. I saw this young osprey as a perfect candidate for this technique as ospreys have rather complex tactics in learning to hunt. They are the only raptor that specialize in catching fish as the main source of their diet, and to do so they must learn hovering skills to hone in on the fish before diving down feet first to snag their catch.

After a week of treatment at our center, the young osprey was ready for his journey back to the wild, but we were unable to locate the parents. The nest had been abandoned due to a band of marauding crows and the fate of its sibling was unknown. The finder, Rebecca was an avid watcher of all the ospreys in the area and knew the location of several other nests, so we set out for the next best thing, an attempt to foster this young bird into another nest.





We picked a location close to the original nest with only one chick to reduce the chances of impact on the established family. The entire "neighborhood" was already enjoying their morning catch. We placed our youngster in a nearby tree so that he could survey the area. After much consideration, he took flight, flying all around the area. I held my breath as he soared over the trees, then returned back to land softly on the nest and welcome himself to his new family. The adult carefully considered her new arrival, then bent down and ripped off a fresh piece of fish to offer to her new family member. It was an awe inspiring moment to realize that our young bird had been accepted into this family and fed by the adult. As we continued to watch, it became more and more evident that this bird would have the opportunity to learn from these foster parents thereby increasing his chances for survival in the wild. I am happy to report that after watching for a couple of days, Rebecca continued to see our young bird in the nest and the adult continued to feed our bird as well as her own chick.

There is much more to come. Stick around for part 2 of this non stop account of spring with the raptors in Miami.

Saying Goodbyes

In my profession, unfortunately saying goodbye is not always a happy moment such as in the last post. Certain rehabilitation patients are not always released and sadly must sometime be euthanized. It's never easy to let go, to feel a life has been wasted, but there are not enough cages in the world to hold all of the permanently crippled patients that come through our doors. Some of these can never adjust to the restrictions and adjustments they must make to live in captivity. After all, they must learn to trust the enemy, a foreign species nameless to them, but one that is all powerful in the world of captivity. Once the trust has been forged they may live a life of existing within our educational collections, either passively so in an exhibit, or actively by trusting the human in one step further, to sit on a falconry glove in partnership to carry the torch, to spread awareness of the misfortune than landed it in captivity.

They are called wildlife ambassadors, but I prefer to call them heroes, for the simple heroic act performed every day to take that step out of their world into ours. Our world may have seemed confusing at first for all of the gatherings of such creatures that would stare at them, speak in languages they do not understand, and gradually come to accept that no harm would follow such interactions with our kind.

In those moments of solitude between bird and handler, this hero might even decide to allow this foreign creature into its special world. The human may be treated to a playful nibbling on a loose strand of hair, a vocal greeting, or they may share some ancient ritual with the human, treating them wistfully as they would one of their own species thereby actually crossing over the threshold of our world to invite us into theirs.

As a keeper/rehabilitator of wild animals, you never forget your first, and you realize what an amazing honor it is to have this invitation extended to you by a creature you may have thought unreachable, untouchable. It changes your perspective, it changes you.

My first was Victoria. She was a crested caracara who had spent most of her life in a roadside zoo. She had sustained a broken wing and lost multiple toes during her time spent in captivity. When I first started handling her as a volunteer at the Museum, I was warned "she either likes you or she don't." Gratefully she liked me.

She was always very calm on the glove, seemed to be actively studying me as she cocked her head sideways and made eye contact. I had always been taught that birds of prey do not enjoy physical stroking, that it was improper to subject them to it. Touching was only to acclimate them so that certain functions could be performed safely when doing educational programs.

As I went through the motions of getting her used to me touching her for safety reasons, I noticed that her feathers were raised on her head while I was doing this. I had parrots at home and knew that they did this when they were content and soliciting a head rub from me. So I tentatively and slowly raised my hand and began to gently stroke her head. She looked at me as if to say, "well finally, I'm glad you got the hint." She was loving it and bowed her head down further so I could scratch just the right spot. I was absolutely flabbergasted! Everything I thought I knew about birds of prey had just been blown out of the water.

Every week, I excitedly looked forward to my visits with Victoria. I would take her out last so I could spend the most time with her. I was careful to hide my relationship with her from the public to maintain the professional image so important to wild animal education. I quickly became intensely attached to her. I tried not to think about her estimated age of 30 years, because she was so special to me and we had only just found each other.

Until that day. The memory of every moment is forever burned in my mind. The look on the person's face who told me that there was some bad news. I started crying right away, because I knew which bird it would be. Victoria had renal disease (kidney failure) and was not doing well. I hurried up to the hospital to see her. With tears still in my eyes, I greeted her. She excitedly greeted me with her familiar call. I opened the cage and sitting on the floor stroked her head much to her usual adoration. It seemed like an eternity, like a moment frozen that we spent together for the last time. She was euthanized shortly thereafter. I still think of her sometimes when I walk by the enclosure she lived in when I first came to the museum.

A dear friend likewise just lost the first bird she brought into her education program, a beautiful red-tailed hawk named Thane. Like me, she shared an unusual bond that can never be replaced. Like her, I mourn the loss of this special creature, and her world will forever be touched by the memory of Thane as mine is by Victoria.

So this entry is a hero's solute of sorts. For all the birds who give their lives over to us in trust that we will be able to make some difference for their wild counterparts. It is for Thane, for Victoria, and all the countless rest who are forever burned in the memory of some other out there trying to make a difference. Yes, they are all heroes .

Introductions

Greetings! If you've found me, then you are someone who has a interest in the world of wildlife rehabilitation or you just came to know me one way or another and want to keep up with the madness of what I call my daily life!

I am a licensed wildlife rehabilitator who specializes in the care of birds of prey or raptors. I practice at the Falcon Batchelor Bird of Prey Center at the Miami Science Museum in Miami Florida. As you can well imagine, my day to day life is much different from most people. Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person on earth as in this photo. It was taken moments before this first year hawk was returned back to the area where it was found. Just before or after this shot was taken I looked in his eyes and said, "You're going home buddy." I felt everyone present stop and smile down upon this simple moment, savoring the thought before moving on to the particulars of the who, where, when and how of this release. The press was there, along with my director and the bird's finder, Terine who took these phenomenal shots. The chairpersons of the Museum's board had been selected to release this bird with their little granddaughter as a gesture of thanks for their ongoing supports of the rehabilitation program. I was very simply the guardian of this moment, there to guide it, to make sure that all the steps happened in tandem to continue this bird's journey. My role is an essential, yet privileged one, and I never let any bird leave our center without a parting word and prayer for its safe passage back into the life it was meant to live before crossing our path.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This one is worth one. One that means everything to many, especially all of these winged wonders that cross my path every day. Freedom. I hope you'll come back and share in my stories again. Until then, find your wings.....