HELP FEED HUNGRY BABY ANIMALS!

It's been awhile since I last blogged about anything, but this cause is incredibly worthwhile.

Spring is on the way and Urban Wildlife Rehabilitation, Inc. in Springfield, MA is gearing up for a busy 2013 baby season! 90-95% of the small mammal babies that we receive have lost their mothers, who were chased off, relocated, or killed by humans. Here is an opportunity to begin reconciliation with the animal kingdom!







We urgently need to raise $1800 by March 15 to purchase milk replacement formula to feed the babies for the first 8-9 weeks of their lives. In 2012, we cared for 124 and, this year, we expect many more.
                                                                       Urban Wildlife Rehabilitation, Inc. is a registered 501(c)(3) charity that receives no grants or federal funding for the critical work that we do. We are counting on donations from caring, concerned individuals like YOU to help us save these babies!

Please make a donation by clicking on the 'donate' button on our webpage: 
http://www.urbanwildliferehab.org/donations.htm. 

Please spread the word! Tell your friends and invite them to our Facebook event! https://www.facebook.com/events/466648800066875/?fref=ts

Check out the rest of our website to learn more about our organization and the work that we do!

You can also find us on Facebook and sign up to receive notifications about all of the new patients arriving and other excitement happening at Urban Wildlife Rehabilitation, Inc.! https://www.facebook.com/pages/Urban-Wildlife-Rehabilitation-Inc/422694711131757?fref=ts

Thank you in advance for your support!

Northern Safari

 The other day, I decided to explore the “wet meadow” along a different path, and on the island, towards which I was heading, there was a large, brown lump of something.  Getting a better view with my binoculars was useless, since I dropped them in the marsh two days prior and they were still quite foggy.  My first thought was an elk, which I discovered to be correct, once I crossed the island and saw him frolicking through the marsh 100-200 meters away.  Maybe he was actually running from me, but it looked as if he was enjoying himself.

Another day, I was driving down the horrible, rutted dirt road to pick up the others from a work site, when four wild boar piglets popped out from the vegetation to the left of the road.  They didn’t seem alarmed at the intrusive presence and noise of the oncoming vehicle, simply standing in the road and observing it for a few moments.  I cut the engine and watched them until they disappeared into the grasses on the opposite side.  Mom was not in sight, but I’m sure that she was keeping a close eye on things, concealed within the overgrowth.

Several weeks ago, we took our day off to look for beavers, but without success.  I returned to the site with one of my co-workers earlier this month to give it another go.  We saw no signs of them on our walk into the forest, even at their village of dams and dens, yet on our return trip, there was a tree root in the stream that looked suspiciously like a beaver.  Presently, it began to casually paddle about and climb onto the shore occasionally to munch on some leaves.  Out of nowhere, another beaver came into view, and yet another, a bit further downstream.  They swam about paying us no mind for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, before one became spooked by some unknown, hastily diving underwater with a harsh splash of his tail.  And then, they were gone.

Appreciation

17 May 2012

Following the intensive trek on Thursday to the site furthest from the road, the journey to the final survey site had to be a cake walk.  While there was still a significant distance to cover, it was far more manageable, of which I was greatly appreciative, commencing the theme for the day.  We marked plot corners with posts and recorded vegetation measurements, as we picked our way through the marshland.  However, the area was fraught with ditches, in which little vegetation grew and the water table extended far below the surface, so that dark, watery abyss patiently awaited its next unsuspecting victim.  This so happened to be me, as I attempted to create a different path across one ditch, since I did not believe that I could match the gait of my companions.  Yet, the distance was still too far, and I either slipped off of the little island of tufted grasses or completely missed my mark.  I quickly began sliding into the abyss, but as water inched above the tops of my waders, the hand of our guide firmly seized my arm and heaved me out, bringing me safely “ashore.”  I took some time to dump the water from my waders, which had filled to the brim, and straighten my drenched socks before continuing on.  I was certainly beginning to recognize the importance of a walking stick for the sake of my safety.

Needless to say, this incident helped me to more fully appreciate the certainty and security of firm, dry land, as we crossed an island of woodland on our journey back towards our vehicles.  As we exited the island, the sun was beginning to set, casting radiant red shadows across the clustered clouds.  Gradually, it peeped out from its hiding place behind the great white puffs to brighten the landscape one final time with its blinding light.  It isn’t very often that one has the opportunity to see a sunset like this, as each one is quite unique.  One co-worker also brought up the fact that few people are privileged enough to work with nature in the way that we are, to be contributing to a project for the greater good of wildlife, and to both live and work in a world-renown national park; yet something else to appreciate.

On the drive back from the site, down the deeply grooved dirt road, wrought large, muddy puddles, the car had enough of this abuse and stalled at the intersection to the main road.  Fortunately, our guide was not far ahead and rang the organization’s auto specialist to assess the situation.  We were perfectly content to wait with our thermos of hot coffee, which was a welcome relief from the cold marsh water.  With a bit of time for the car to dry out and a pull onto the road, it burst back to life, just in time for us to observe a mother fox with her kits crossing the road a ways ahead.  It was supposed that the car was meant to stall, so that we would not miss this beautiful moment in nature’s nightlife.  So much to appreciate!

The Aquatic Warbler Workout

16 May 2012

The second day was far more trying, as it took three to four hours to walk through forest with muddy spots that would eat you alive, a marsh, some more woodlands, another marsh, a small island of trees, and more marshland, just to get to the farthest edge of our farthest plot.  There were times when I felt ready to give up and as if my feet could go no further.  When these “stories” inched their way to the forefront of my mind, I had to pause and breathe, in order to quell the mounting frustration and avoid making the situation worse for myself.  I especially struggled in areas where the vegetation was about half the size of me, trying to lift my legs over it without tripping myself. 

I welcomed the beginning of the survey, as we had to slow down and take our time, so that we might spot females flushing from underneath the layer of plant litter or hear their alarm calls at our approach.  I appreciated having a GPS unit there far more than in a car, since it was so easy to get turned around in an environment with relatively indistinct features, while simultaneously scanning for birds and trying to stay upright, feeling where my feet would fall.  I couldn’t keep a constant eye on the GPS, so almost as soon as I would look away, I would start walking off in a slightly off course.  I think that I tended to head in the direction, in which I was looking.  So, straight lines from point to point on the map didn’t really happen. 

I flushed some birds, but they never came back, so, perhaps there were no nests or they were not females.  The others primarily flushed female Aquatic Warblers, but also did not turn up any nests and one kept hearing alarm calls.  We worked well as a team and finished the site slightly earlier than expected, which was good, as darkness came quickly on this cold, cloudy, rainy day.  It was twilight by the time we reached the car, which we had left about eight hours prior.  We made it home, hung our things to dry, as all of it was damp, cleaned up, wolfed down dinner, and now, everyone, with the exception of me, is fast asleep. 

We get a bit of a lie in tomorrow, so that we might wait out the morning rain showers before trekking to our final survey site.

Marsh Hiking 101

Yesterday was my first semi-official day on the job.  I say semi-official because we took frequent breaks to listen to the harmony of bird songs around us and observe them through binoculars, as they flew overhead, including Marsh Harriers, White-winged Terns, Meadow Pipits, and, of course Aquatic Warblers.  We also did not search specifically for Aquatic Warblers.  Instead, the project leader took us on a trek around one of the large survey sites in the peat marsh of Biebrza National Park, so that we could mark the edges of the plots for future reference. 

It was wonderful to be back out in nature, which built up my anticipation for the start of the field work.  We were surrounded by marsh with occasional patches of trees, unable to see the boardwalk, from which we had come.  Yet, some hills could be seen far off in the distance, which are lit up by the night lights of larger towns.  The project leader advised us to “stay away from the light,” as it is a seven kilometer walk to a river, which one must swim across, in order to get to the towns.  I’m unsure of the total distance covered today, but it was tough going, and I cannot imagine what hiking several kilometers must be like! 

And it did feel quite like hiking, particularly through plots, in which the vegetation is taller and denser with seemingly less standing water.  One really needs to pick up one’s feet!  Yet, there is always a hole some place, where the entangled root systems suddenly disperse and some unfortunate individual loses a leg for a few moments.  It was very challenging to tell the locations of such danger zones in advance, since some areas were small and surrounded by vegetation, seemingly harmless.  Even though, I spent much of my walking time carefully watching where my feet feel, I still managed to locate a few gaps in the plant life.

Night Moves

On Friday night, I laid in bed reading and waiting to doze off, as it was long past my bedtime, when a muffled noise broke the silence of the frigid night air.  At first, it I didn’t think much of it, since I frequently hear nighttime sounds, such as the freight trains rushing along the nearby tracks and the sparse traffic zooming down the state highway at the end of my street.  However, my ears gradually began to tune in more, diverting my attention from my book, in an attempt to identify the sound.  Suddenly, it clicked; I recognized it.  Owls. 

I don’t recall the last time I heard owls calling in my suburban neighborhood.  Perhaps, this was just the first time that I had really listened.  I dropped my book, threw the covers back, and rifled through my backpack for my mp3 player, which contained audio files of bird calls.  I inserted one ear phone to listen to the owl tracks and attentively listened to the calls outside with the other ear, comparing and trying to match the calls of one of the recorded species to the live individuals just outside my bedroom window.  Oftentimes, I have little success in attempting to identify birds in this manner, as many calls and songs of different species sound quite similar to my untrained ear.  Fortunately, there were only a handful of owl species, from which to choose, and my eyes lit up when a nearly identical track to the outdoor chorus began to play.  Great Horned Owls.

I was ecstatic that, not only was I able to identify them, but I also had the privilege of listening to them.  It reminded me of the nights at the wildlife rehabilitation centre in British Colombia, when a pair of Barred Owls visited another that was recovering and awaiting the day of her release from the confines of her outdoor enclosure.  Their conversations filled the silence of the neighborhood. 

At this time, I clambered down the stairs to get a better look from the French door in the kitchen, which opens out onto the deck in the backyard.  I could only clearly hear one owl calling now.  I scanned the darkness and the shadowed, entangled tree branches for an owl-like shape or even slight movement.  Yet, I didn’t notice anything terribly obvious and my heart sank, as I came to the reality that I was unlikely to spot such a secretive and elusive creature. 

However, I did notice a dark, roundish shape near the top of one of the far trees in the wooded area between my family’s and our neighbors’ property.  I couldn’t be sure if I had also seen this shape during the daylight hours, perhaps a clump of leaves or an old nest.  I opted to close the door and stop letting the heat escape, and instead, continue to listen and observe the suspicious shape from my bedroom window. 

For several more minutes, I sat crouched on my bed, gazing out into the night, when suddenly, the dark shape in the treetop fluttered.  It then swooped down through the branches of the surrounding trees, straight towards the house, before it glided effortlessly to my left and past the side wall, perhaps seeking out the mate, with whom it had been conversing.

Procrastination and Other Thoughts

I have been procrastinating with journaling.  Lots of little things happen on a day to day basis, eventually accumulating to a number that is overwhelming to consider tackling with the written word, especially as they have already begun to escape, as my memory is no steel trap.  That is my excuse, and limited time, I suppose.  When I am done with work, I do not feel like doing much of anything, even the things that I generally would like to do for myself.  I have to push myself out for hikes on my day off, otherwise, it might not happen, or any other physical activity for that matter.

On my hike yesterday, I got a wake up call to take it easy on myself and pay closer attention to all of my surroundings, as I stepped up and hit my head straight into a tree that was growing bent over the trail.  I sat down to recover and was sore for a bit, before continuing on up the hill, as I did not want that to be an excuse to end my time out.  Worse things could happen as deterrents, but as long as I learned my lesson, I would likely be fine.  I managed to avoid further bumps in this particular "road". 

Someone was looking at the wildlife center's pictures the intern computer, and the one that was still up on the screen was of a seal pup, when he first arrived in June. What a change!  It is hard to believe that only about two months ago, he was a fluffy white thing, far less than twenty pounds.  He is now nearly fully grown and fat and eating whole fish on his own in a big pool with other seals on the fast track to release.  They all seemed so fragile and helpless when they arrived in June and early July, as many of them were premature and abandoned by their mothers.  Developmental time is so short in much of the animal kingdom.  The birds are even more impressive, as they spend about a week shedding their downy, baby feathers, before they are on solid food, eating on their own, and then off to a woods’ enclosure until they are deemed ready for release.  The process takes no more than a month, it seems. 

Since interns have started to leave, it has become more essential for the rest of us to be trained on the remaining aspects of the seal department, such as caring for those at the outdoor pools.  It is quite different and far more thrilling to see them in their element, healthy and thriving.  Many of them are hand feeding in the water, eagerly following the fish that their feeder wriggles about, imitating live prey.  Once they figure out how to swallow for tube feeding of mashed fish, it does not take long for them to progress along the various stages of feeding development. 

Living a Dream

It came to me that just last year, I was looking down from cliff edges to the ocean below into the little faces of harbor seals, which were peeping out from the water’s surface, staring inquisitively back at me.  I had wondered what it would be like to interact with these creatures, how they live, what their personalities might be like.  At the present moment, while standing beside a bathtub containing a couple of hungry seal pups, I realized that I am doing exactly what I had set out to do.  It was to satisfy a curiosity if nothing else, and perhaps, blown out of proportion as I considered it to be my career destiny, but that is not what is important.  I am living what I am dreaming.  It may not necessarily be logical or rational, but it does not really matter.  Yes, I am searching for my calling in life, a passion that drives me, but in the meantime, I can create amazing experiences for myself.  How many people can say that they had the opportunity to work with wildlife, especially seals?  There are only so many organizations that have licenses to work with or research marine mammals.  This is not just the daily grind, even though it may feel that way, at times, with so much repetition, mounting demands, and stress.

Wanting More

Why is it we always find ourselves wanting more, wanting something better, or even wanting something that we cannot have?  What is so unsatisfactory about the present?  It was once something that was wanted, but now that is has been attained, it is somehow less desirable.  Everyone here, interns and staff, are here for a reason; they have a passion for animals and caring for them.  Yet, we quickly get bogged down by the work, the rushing, the chaos, the schedules, so that we seem to forget about this overarching reason.   

At least it seems this way, we complain about schedules, long hours, shift disorganization, not enough time off.  Why would we necessarily want time off if this is what we wanted to be doing with our lives?  We should want to help and learn as much as possible in the limited time, for which we are here.  There is really little time for complaints.  And I certainly fall into this as well.  I look forward to my days off, so that I may relax and have time to myself, though this is important as well.  However, it is difficult to get myself going again and get pumped for work the next day.  

It is amazing how such a unique experience, doing something that one loves can so quickly become old hat, part of the daily grind.  What does this suggest?  Is it not one’s true passion?  Is it just challenging to love the job as a whole if there are certain aspects of it that are much less appealing?  Do we just take things for granted that easily?  It seems as if I constantly have to remind myself that I could be in a worse position, being stuck at home in some dead end job for the rest of my life.  I shudder at the thought.  Yet, I suppose that such an extreme is necessary to make me aware of what I really do have, instead of simply dwelling on the present negatives, which are quite miniscule in the grand scheme of things.

From Trauma to Release

In other news, the rescue season has begun to pick up here.  We are up to twelve premature seals, which can be quite a handful, as they tend to be very weak and can suddenly crash due to hypoglycemia.  Our first seal experienced this shortly after he arrived and several more times over the course of about three days, which required intravenous therapy through the blood vessels of the vertebrate of his spine.  It was quite impressive to watch the veterinarian quickly feel around a bit and poke the needle into exactly the right spot.  Unfortunately, due to the intravenous therapy and often being unconscious, meals had to be skipped, which also did not help his blood sugar level to improve.  The outcome was looking kind of grim, since the veterinarian had never seen a seal crash so many times and over such an extended period of time.  However, he has recovered quite well since then, and on sunny days, is being spoiled with his own private visits to one of the seal nursery pools, as the others are not stable enough to leave isolation at this time. 

It has been quite rewarding to attend the releases of our recovered patients.  Our efforts all seem to be worthwhile in those moments.  Before I arrived at the center, two little goslings (geese babies) came in, still fluffy with their down feathers and took up residence in a baby play pen.  One had a leg injury, I believe from either a dog or cat attack, yet he seemed to be in good spirits.  Later on, they got another buddy, who they took to quite quickly, as they would cuddled up close together with each other and the goslings in their little mirror.  Eventually, they graduated from their play pen to an outdoor enclosure behind the clinic, from which they would always try to follow out whoever was leaving with a stampede of little webbed feet and a chorus of chirps. 

In the bird department, once the leg wound on one injured gosling had healed, the swimming pool was filled for them to begin the waterproofing of their feathers.  Several days later, another group of three other goslings arrived, smaller than our current residents, and they had to be gradually introduced.  The first day that their play pen was moved into the outdoor enclosure, so that they could all see and become familiar with each other, the younger ones were extremely excited, frantically side stepping and pecking at the mesh screen.  It was as if their imaginary friends in their little mirror had suddenly manifested themselves into existence. 

Unfortunately, the older goslings did not take too well to these newcomers, as I discovered when I took the little ones out of their play pen later on to clean it and to see how initial interactions would go.  The older ones immediately took to nipping at and bullying the others, so I frantically switched out all of the soiled linens and moved the little ones back into their safe haven.  Apparently, this behavior is like a rite of passage, an establishment of the pecking order within the group, yet the new goslings were still a bit too fragile to withstand such treatment.  I do not believe that I was on shift the day that they were finally all joined together, and soon after that, they were moved to a larger enclosure in the woods with a luxurious in-ground swimming pool that circulates oxygen and keeps the water somewhat clean.  They were not sure what to make of this new environment and had to be ushered into the water.  They bonded well during the weeks that they spent there together. 

Soon enough, the day of release was at hand.  There are several people on the island, who volunteer their property for wildlife releases and the property that we went to on this particular day had been purchased by a couple to preserve the land as it is for the wildlife.  Their house sits right on the coast and on one side is a little inlet, where a gaggle of geese had been observed regularly in the evenings, so the hope was to integrate our six into this group.  Only two people went down to the beach with the carrier to physically release the goslings, and just like their move to the swimming pool in the woods, they had to be ushered down the beach into the salt water. 

It only took one of them to jump in for the others to follow suit.  The staff were hoping that the goslings would mingle with the family groups of mothers and babies that were slightly younger than themselves, but they instead met up first with some older geese and the establishment of pecking order began.  No one seemed to be seriously beaten on or injured, and they all settled down after a short time, as the newcomers had been accepted.  It became difficult to identify our goslings among the crowd, yet we kept watching from the windows of the garage, fascinated by this socialization process, and feeling satisfied with the payoff of our time and effort spent raising them, like proud parents.

Disconnection from Nature

There tends to be this romanticized idea about how back in the day of the western pioneers, there was a greater respect and appreciation for things in life and the environment.  Perhaps, appreciation for the material things I would agree upon, since these luxury items were difficult to come by in rustic living, yet very useful, as many have now become basic necessities.  To a certain extent, there was a greater connection to nature, as many to lived off of the land, depended on it, and interacted with it directly. 

Yet, due to the overwhelming abundance of natural resources and wildlife at that time, they appear to have been taken for granted from the very moment of the colonists' arrival.  There was no consideration of consequences for future generations or nature itself.  Everyone just lived in the present; survival being the primary focus.  One could catch fish by the hundreds in a matter of hours without a permit or limit, or log acres upon acres of old growth forests to make a quick profit and supply the demands of development and progress.

Materials, time, and back-breaking labor were put into a home, just to be abandoned a few years later for a more appealing tract of land, convenient access to roadways or town center, or better accommodation for an ever-expanding family.  In those days, it seemed so common that every couple would have a minimum of five or so children, so why not plan ahead and build accordingly, instead of constantly enduring the upgrading process?  The pioneers claimed immediate ownership to the land that they settled, which apparently granted them the authority to rape and pillage it as they did.  This set the standard in the development of our current mind set; the need to upgrade, the commercialism, nature just being there for the taking for our own benefit, and our total disconnect from it.

Self-fulfillment and a New Seal

Since my determination a few days ago to focus on and enjoy the present, I have noticed a significant change in my attitude and I have begun to really appreciate my time here and the island itself.  This shift has also coincided with work days becoming fuller, so that I often do not feel like I have completed all that I had wanted to accomplish by the end of my shift.  I started to wonder if actively being a part of a project or work and keeping busy with it legitimately fulfills me or if that activity simply keeps my mind from drifting back to the unhappiness that I seemed to feel only a few days ago.  Even if I am legitimately fulfilled, shouldn't I also be able to feel this way while working on my own projects?  Do these not actually satisfy me or am I approaching them with a rotten frame of mind, believing that they are not nearly as important as the other work that I could be doing, namely work for others? 

I keep returning to this struggle, finding meaning and satisfaction in doing things for others and not always putting myself higher on my priority list.  I do not think that this can all be attributed to cultural morals and the push to not be selfish, but also because I find it easier to help other people.  They can tell you what they want, what they need.  Yet for oneself, one must listen from within, which I feel is far more challenging and quite daunting.  What am I listening for?  What do I sound like?  What is it that I truly want, as I am constantly growing and changing?

I became aware of this tendency to ignore or belittle my own goals and desires over three years ago, and I believe that such an awareness keeps me honest, making it easier to recognize when I am falling back into that old habit.  Ideally, as I continue to encounter it throughout my life, the period of time between regression and realization will become shorter.  Until, at some point, it will only be a flicker of a thought, a faded memory, as I will have learned to cope and live with this flaw.

The first seal came today!  Everyone had started to wonder when the first one would show up and a bet had even been started in anticipation of the event, as they typically begin to arrive at the end of May.  He is a healthy weight for a premature baby at about twenty-one pounds.  Apparently, he had been swimming near the coast all night and was not able to be rescued until this morning.  Now, he lies in his own personal bathtub rapidly dozing off, but suddenly jerking his head up, as if trying to fight off the inevitable sleep.

Watching Wild Geese

There was a gaggle of Canada geese paddling about Grandma’s Beach at Ruckle Park headed by two adults, which were leading about ten babies with two more adults at the rear, as well as another six adults trailing at a safe distance behind.  The babies were about as big as those at the center, perhaps at the teenage stage on the verge of adulthood, and making the same chirping chatter.  They fed primarily on Ulva species, a thin, bright green algae, which was growing on the beach and the rocks and slowly becoming uncovered by the receding tide.  It made me wonder why we have been collecting terrestrial greens for them.  Perhaps, those would be their alternative diet, being a species at home on both land and sea.

One youngster became distracted by a patch of algae on a rock, by which the gaggle passed, and two others followed behind, trying to steal the seaweed from him and romping about.  One patient adult stayed on with them, supervising the play as the rest of the group paddled towards the beach.  However, after awhile, she had enough and felt that it was time to regroup.  She began slowly paddling away, sounding a commanding honk every ten seconds until by the fifth call or so the little ones scurried up behind her for a quiet journey to shore.

Six Second Chances

Having been here nearly a month, only three animals have made it to release.  The others have sustained traumas and injuries too severe or were too young and weak to survive.  So, for a time, it seemed as if this was a place where animals come to die, instead of to get a second chance at life.  Yet, sometimes, the best that we can do is provide them an opportunity to die with dignity and minimal suffering, instead of in pain and alone out in the world. 

In spite of this tough reality, there are still second chances that come along, as six birds were released today!  A groups of starlings had arrived a few weeks ago as youngsters, who needed to be gavage fed, and I was able to watch them grow and develop, as they learned to fly, perch, and feed themselves.  After a time, they were deemed to be stable and self-sufficient enough to be moved to an enclosure outside in the woods.  That transition was quite a challenge, since they wanted nothing to do with being caught or being confined in small cardboard boxes for transport, from which a few quickly learned to escape.  I imagine that performing this same task to take them in the truck to a release site was even more difficult, since they had a larger area for evasion and had developed a greater aversion to humans. 

At the release site, I had just barely finished untaping the box when three starlings suddenly, anxiously burst out and flew off in all different directions into the evergreen woods.  One other starling was released and one stayed behind, as he is the sickly runt, experiencing slow feather development.  He can only fly well enough to hop from branch to branch and could just look on as the others flew high above chasing each other about the enclosure.  One day when I checked on them, he was perched on a low branch, looking tentatively, longingly up at his companions, and sporadically flapping his wings, as if preparing himself, as if this was the day that he would take to the sky.  I could feel the anticipation building and I encouraged him in my mind until finally, he began to let go of his perch in mid-flap, only to tip backwards onto the ground.  It was an awful disappointment.  I certainly hope that his condition improves, so that he can go off into the world to be a “real” bird.

A fledgling robin look quite different from an adult.  It is brown and white with brown spots along its breast, although the facial features are quite distinctive.  This fledgling spent even less time at the center, as he was nearly at the age to go off on his own.  He was released at a cemetery nearby the starlings’ release site, and similarly, flew from the box without hesitation into a nearby tree, where he remained perched, likely in shock over his new, unfamiliar surroundings.

The first release of the day was of a young raven that had arrived with a broken toenail, which eventually fell off.  He was quite tame, putting up little to no struggle on the mornings that he was to be weighed or when he had to be tube fed or medicated.  He even preferred to be hand fed, which would not do out in the wild.  Due to the loss of his toenail, he needed to relearn how to perch and reaccustom himself with flying and landing, which was a crash and burn attempt when we first moved him to the large raptor flight cage.  He soon figured this out and was quite ready to go when he was removed from the cat carrier and tossed into the air.  Like the robin, he seemed to be shocked at the change in scenery, and so remained perched high up in a conifer tree as we proceeded to release the starlings and make our way back to the trucks.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

I thought that this was it.  I thought that this was my calling.  I thought that it would be different.  Famous last words.  Rehabilitation is uniquely different from zoo and shelter work, but it is still animal care.  I believe such work to be a noble cause and I love being a part of it and interacting with the animals.  Perhaps, I wanted me to pursue this.  I pushed myself, just like a parent who tries to live the life that they wanted through their child.  I do have a history with animal care.  I also have a history of leaving animal care.  Those past experience can be interpreted in a number of ways, though I am uncertain how exactly to interpret the things that I take interest in, if they’re things to be taken seriously or not. 

Before I went to Ireland, I wanted to work with birds.  When I got to Ireland, I was thoroughly engaged in my work, but I also wanted to work with the seals.  At home, I fell back to animal care, while wanting to return to the ocean, and just travel in general.  Now, after only two weeks, I don’t want to be here.  I want to be back on the seashore; I want to be back in Ireland.  Although, I still can’t see myself working at that particular marine station again.  I thought that traveling at least would do the trick and make me happy, and it did.  I was in awe on my way journey through British Columbia and was eager to learn and do in my first week. 

I’m getting on well with people here, though the connections aren’t very deep, and I don’t know if they ever will be.  I’m keeping myself busy and active.  I could be on the fringe of homesickness, yet I don’t find myself missing it much without my lover still there.  I feel like I’ve been coping better without him so far this time, compared to last year.  I’m feeling under the weather in general, which could make me feel either more awful about this situation and blow it out of proportion or could be a sign that this isn’t the path for me.  It could be stress and fear regarding the chaotic learning yet to come during the impending overflow of patients.  Although, this feeling isn't always terribly obvious or right at the surface.  It certainly comes up each time I handle a new animal or interact with a more dangerous one.  I don’t know if I have the capability to fake confidence.  But it’s not even supposed to be faking; it’s believing on nothing that I can do something that I’ve never done. 

As a staff member was leaving today, I had the urge to plead to take me with her.  I’m ready to travel again.  Although, part of me wants to stick it out here because it will be an amazing experience, whether or not I continue with this as a career path.  I’ve also made a commitment and I’d feel rather silly leaving so early, especially after pushing for a more extensive internship.  And it’s only three and a half months, now closer to three.  I can do this.  Stay positive and focus on what I have, what I’m gaining, and find the joy in what I'm doing.  I don’t want to be constantly wishing for something else or I’ll never be truly happy.

Humans and Nature

When I think of wildlife rehabilitation, I think of humans providing wild animals with a second chance at life, in response to the disruption of their lives by humans; an attempt to right the wrongs of our species.  This would include animals that have been hit by cars, caught in snares, and attacked by house pets.  And then there are other cases, such as a fawn that arrived two days ago after having been attacked by a mink.  A few thoughts came to my mind upon first hearing of the injured animal, and during further consideration thereafter. 

Of course, the first was, oh, the poor baby left on its own to withstand an unprovoked attack.  This seems to be the immediate response of the general majority, as we are unable to bear the thought of anything being killed, in spite of the fact that we are guilty of murders a plenty as a species from the food that we eat to the wars that we fight, which is an entirely different discussion.  Also, we tend to have difficulty accepting the fact that death is part of the natural order of things. 

This brings me to my second thought, which was that the mink was denied its dinner.  A significant energy load is required by an animal, in order to obtain food, whether it be via hunting, scavenging, or grazing.  Energy to locate specific food sources or the most energy rich sources, energy to collect or attack that food, and energy to consume it.  The mink was in the midst of this process, devoting so much of itself to this particular prey, yet all for nothing.  Maybe it had not eaten for a few days and would not have adequate energy to follow through this food cycle again.  Maybe it will starve. 

And what of the suffering that the fawn had to endure?  If the mink was allowed to finish what it started, then the fawn might have been dead within minutes.  But instead, it remained alive for hours, during capture, transport via car, ferry, and car again, a physical examination, and waiting in a crate for the arrival of a doctor to officially determine that there was no way it could be saved.  Even though, the fawn was “humanely” euthanized in the end, how humane was that whole escapade?  All because the attack had been witnessed at a family friendly campground and the adults did not want the children to see or even be aware of death in their general vicinity.  It was easier to send the fawn off to the wildlife hospital, so that they could ignorantly tell their children that it was safe from the big, bad mink and that it would be okay. 

The final thought was actually brought up by a co-worker, as to why the fawn had been attacked in the first place.  The wound sustained was on its face, which suggested that the fawn did not even try to run away, even though they are apparently fully capable of doing so as soon as they are born.  Natural selection was likely at work, weeding out the weak or sick, in favor of individuals that are capable of living in their natural habitat and coping with the dangers within it. 

So my question is, how involved should we get?  There is a reason why animal parents abandon or remove individual offspring from their nest, den, or what have you.  Should we be interfering with this selective process out of our own desire to prevent suffering?  Are we even qualified to "play god" in determining who lives or dies?  Nature has been working in its mysterious ways much longer than humans have roamed, much less dominated the Earth.  We have removed ourselves so far from nature that we are generally no longer able to comprehend these mysteries. 

Perhaps, this is why many people turn to religion, as there is some void that was once occupied by a connection to the Earth and its creatures.  We still feel the pangs of this void, this separation, and we struggle to fill it, so that the pain might end, we may become more enlightened, and we may understand the meaning of this life.  Yet, religion is just another human creation, which seems to further distance us from whence we came.  It creates a system of morals, of right and wrong, of heaven and hell that are completely unheard of among other species. 

Today, these morals do seem quite necessary, given the complex nature and life that humans have constructed for themselves.  Yet, just as one religious denomination tries to push its beliefs onto another, so we try to apply our morals to other living creatures.  But it just does not work.  Though we inhabit the same Earth, we live in completely different worlds.  And so, just as with different religions and cultures, we should learn to accept the practices and beliefs of our fellow beings.  We need to stop anthropomorphizing and try to see the world through the eyes of the mink, the fawn, the leaves that the fawn consumes, or the bacteria that enrich the soil for the plant life.  Only then may we be able to answer the question of what our responsibilities are to life as a whole.

Homesickness Begins

I think that homesickness is starting to catch up with me.  Although, this time, I find myself not just missing certain aspects of home, but also missing Ireland.  Something really clicked there, it felt like home away from home.  Perhaps it felt right, although, I cannot say this for certain because it has been so long since my first few days there and the exact feelings and thoughts evade me. 

Currently, I feel lethargic, disconnected, disinterested.  There is not enough to do right now to keep myself occupied and my mind distracted.  Work hours have already been shortened, as another intern has arrived, yet few new patients.  Two more interns will be here at the beginning of next week, but I am uncertain what work there will be for them by then.

I know that the animals will come.  It is just a matter of when.  The intern coordinator has said that the number of patients build up gradually during the summer with a few intakes every day, so that, after a time, the center becomes crowded and chaotic.  I feel fairly ready.  The tasks that I am unsure of are ones that I simply need to practice and get in a habit of doing.  In other cases, such as learning proper restraining techniques, incoming patients are required.  That is something that I am rather nervous about, to have a good grip that is safe for the animal and handler/s alike, while trying to summon up some shred of confidence in oneself, so that the animal may not take advantage of the faint-hearted. 

I suppose I can ask for projects and push myself to engage in creative endeavors of my own that will get me through to the busy season.

Don't Take Life for Granted

Life happens so fast, whether it is the days that pass us by or the final breaths before death.  Today, there was much excitement over a young eaglet, which was to come to the center and begin his second chance at life, after a steep drop from his nest that afternoon.  Upon opening the box, which he was delivered in by the retired Coast Guard officers, bright, alert eyes were staring up at his many onlookers, who gazed back in awe at his small, downy covered body and adult-like feet and talons.  There was life in that box.  There was strength, a spark, a will to live and fight, which suggested a promise of recovery and survival. 

Once back at the center, he was lifted from his makeshift nest and placed on the examination table to assess his physical condition.  The veterinarian discovered multiple breaks in both wings.  As quickly as this life had come into this world and into ours at the center, it would just as soon exit, since birds need to be physically perfect, in order to survive in the wild.  It was as if his life had slipped away right then, while he was still squirming and crying on the table top.  The mask was placed over his beak, and as the gas gradually passed into him, he succumbed to sleep, so that the transition into death would be less painful and traumatic.  And so, we are finally left with a body, a former shell of an eaglet, to reunite with the life from whence he came. 

On the other hand, I watch the young starlings, crows, pigeon, finch, and geese, seemingly so helpless and dependent upon assistance to remain nourished, safe, and warm.  Just last weekend, all of them, except for the goslings and finch, were being fed essentially a protein smoothie through a tube stuck down each one’s throat and into the crop.  Now, many of the starlings have learned to eat solid food and meal worms from their dishes and to bathe in and drink from their water bowl.  Although, they will still nip at the hand that feeds, demanding service, while I attempt to feed the two slower learners. 

But even these slower, smaller starlings learn quickly, as just today, one was being tube fed in morning and had figured out how to feed himself by evening!  Their maturation time and capacity for learning is incredible!  Perhaps, in another week, they will be in an outdoor cage, and in yet another week, foraging for their own food wherever their wings may take them.  The finch is two days away from the next move towards greater independence himself.  The crows are demanding larger portions of protein smoothie and are beginning to eat solid food and meal worms.  The goslings have graduated from their playpen in the isolation room to an outdoor enclosure behind the clinic about two days ago.  Soon enough, they will all be fully grown and gone, to be replaced by a slew of new patients. 

I suppose that the lesson here is to not take life for granted, as every moment is precious, every moment important.  To live as you want to live, do as you want to do, throw caution to the wind.  Well, sort of.  To appreciate the little things, the simple things in life, because those are what hold our whole existence together and make life worthwhile.  It is much easier to recognize this in species with life spans so much shorter than our own and that are outside of our bubble of a world.

Finding My Passion

Ever since I arrived on the coast and caught my first whiff of that salty air, my immediate desire was to scope out the shore life.  I’ve anxiously been awaiting an opportunity and finding a location to do so on Salt Spring Island, as publicly accessible coast seems to be limited.  I jumped at the opportunity to examine the short strip of shore by Centennial Park (in the center of town) on the first day of my arrival here and was disappointed by the lack of biodiversity with really only barnacles about.  Yesterday, I walked over to the closest stretch of beach, and upon arrival immediately set to work attempting to identify the seaweeds scattered along the shore.  I had to remind myself that it is a different coast with different conditions, and that species may not quite be the same and that many need microscopic identification, in order to keep myself from becoming too frustrated by what knowledge I’ve lost, since last year. 

I certainly enjoyed my time on Sherkin and every day was a new adventure, in spite of the repetitive nature of the work.  There was always a different location, a new species, a challenge to overcome, a different season, something to set apart each site or month from the next.  I am easily immersed in research, particularly when I get to the writing bit and I’ve been involved in the entire process up to that point, which makes the work far more meaningful and interesting.  I miss the work and the location, but I didn’t much care for the management.  Yet, in watching the seals below day after day, I also longed to work more closely with the animals and to be an advocate for them and their well-being. 

I am certainly overwhelmed here now, knowing little about what I’m doing and that these lives are in my hands.  Perhaps, this is also why I am missing Sherkin Island, as I am more certain of my abilities there.  Though, that is not how I started off.  I was just as unsure.  It will take time, but I will learn and catch on, especially with so many experienced individuals to question.  I’ll see how rehabilitation goes.  I can’t yet decide if it’s a field that I want to continue to pursue.  I feel like it will offer adventure, similar to surveying.  Yet, I also can’t ignore the fact that last year’s internship was the first that I could see myself doing again.  I just have to take things as they come and enjoy the present moment.

Appreciating the Little Things

I’m realizing that my past few entries have been rather negative, as I hope and wait to get away and start living life the way I would like to again.  Yet, my time here at home has not been totally horrible.  It’s just easier to zone in on the negative or to get caught up in the daily grind, and completely overlook the people and things that I have in my life right now that make it worthwhile.  Recently, I received a bit of a wake up call to how short life really is, how it can change so quickly, unexpectedly, which refamiliarized me with the importance of living life in the moment and appreciating what I have.  All too often, I find myself anticipating something, just to be looking forward to something else in the midst of the first something.  I don’t want to go through life never really being happy or satisfied because I’m so intent on getting to that next step. 

Other than trying to get myself back into the habit of pursuing constant improvement to ideally better myself as a person, I’ve mostly just been working and trying to make good use of my time.  Oftentimes, there don’t seem to be enough hours in the day! 

At my current job, I’m supposed to get a second oven, which I’m more hopeful about since the cooling racks that I was promised when I started over a month ago were finally delivered.  Ideally, this would help to cut down on the time that I spend baking and create more manageable work hours. 

I’m still getting out every weekend for contra dancing and loving every minute of it!  I’ve also been trying to get more involved in the wildlife rehabilitation community through my volunteer work and attending meetings for the state’s wildlife organization.