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!

The Beginning of Current Occupation: Volunteer

When I first started filling out forms that ask for your current occupation, I never thought much about this word, “occupation”, as I quickly scribbled down “student”.  I was a student for about twenty-three years of my life, and following graduation, I hesitated at that “occupation” line.  I was quite reluctant to fill in “barista” as my occupation during the first year after I had earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Environmental Studies.  I felt occupation to be synonymous to career, something that one aspired and dedicated oneself to in life.  I was far from passionate about making people’s coffee, especially not for the rest of my life.

Yet, as unhappy and frustrated as I was with my “occupation” and the general path of my life, I felt powerless to do anything about it.  Often, I would hear of the travels and adventures of friends and acquaintances, which caused an upwelling of jealousy.  However, it was unfair of me to feel this way towards these individuals, who were making the most of life and really living it.  I wanted to travel.  I wanted to do something different, something meaningful.  I didn’t feel like I could accomplish that by staying around my hometown, my comfort zone, and following along the path of building a successful career, becoming financially stable, settling down, and starting a family.  It just didn’t feel right for me, and was the cause of some shuddering.  It took me, well, a lifetime really, to build up my courage and self-confidence, but one year was the most pivotal for me to take a risk and make a change.

In the spring of 2009, I took a chance and applied for a position doing trail work in Vermont for part of the summer, for which I was accepted.  Around this time, I also booked a one way ticket to Seattle, Washington, with a plan to visit friends and to travel the west coast for the very first time and on my own.  My adventure had begun.

Since then, I have held two internships abroad in the fields of marine biology and wildlife rehabilitation.  I find the work to be extremely rewarding and fulfilling.  I feel that, in some small way, I am making a difference, just as I had longed to do. 

In addition, this time has provided opportunities to reflect upon and learn from my travels and experiences.  Even returning home seems to offer new lessons.  And so, I hope that through my writing, I may also be able to make a difference, to inspire, to teach, or to entertain, at the very least.

Leaving Salt Spring Island

It never seemed real that I was actually leaving until this morning.  I had been at the center long enough that it had not necessarily become routine, but a rather fixed part of my life.  It was difficult to imagine having done anything different with my life previously or doing anything else tomorrow into the future.  Even saying goodbye to the staff yesterday seemed unreal.  I found the near tears, well wishes, and praise to be quite humorous because I still felt as if I was not going anywhere and that I would see everyone tomorrow, and as a result, the scene seemed a bit too dramatic.  I did not feel like I was fully able to appreciate everything and everyone as much as I should for the last time.  I felt like it should be something more, with a big step back and time to reflect, as I did when I left Poulacurra after the last seashore survey.

Instead, today, I appreciated the work as I have come to do, after the many times of reminding myself how different it could be; working at a worthless, dead-end job and living in a place that I hate.  It felt like just another day, and so, I spent part of my evening cleaning the kitchen, even after having packed my belongings only a few hours previously.  Even as I sat talking with my friend past midnight, as if we always engaged in conversation in the kitchen at that hour, it was far at the back of my mind that this would probably be the last time.  I did not get to spend much quality time with everyone else, but again, it did not feel like a last night.  I also knew that most would be accompanying me to the ferry in the morning, not to mention that we had time aplenty together to make up for it.

I am extremely thankful that I was able to extend my stay.  My work here did not feel complete at the end of August, not to mention, I was not mentally ready and had no plans.  But also, I had grown to better appreciate the island and the center and I was only beginning to connect with my peers.  I longed for that sense of community, which seemed to be lacking during the first half of my internship.  It did not feel like the right time to leave.  Looking back now, I believe that it was a good decision and that it was not simply an excuse to stay longer in my newly established comfort zone and push off my departure into the unknown.

Leaving did not begin to feel real until I began the round of hugs at the ferry terminal, and then, it finally started to sink in; the likelihood that I will never see these friends again, the knowledge that another family is dispersing, and the realization that I will greatly miss their personal quirks.  As the ferry set sail, my British Columbian adventure started to feel like a distant memory, difficult to determine if it had happened at all.  It seemed too outlandish to be true.

First Seal Release

Today is the day of the first seal release.  We have come a long way together over such a short period of time.  The veterinarian pulled out pictures of some of the first seals from when they initially arrived at the center and, what a difference!  Those adorable, fluffy white creatures cowering in bath tubs have grown up to be big, fat sausages living it up in the above-ground pools.  That time has been a learning and growing process for us all with a string of challenges and successes along the way.   

To start, there was the fear of gavage feeding, for the seals, gradually coming to understand that this is what fills their bellies with food, and for the interns trying to master this technique for the first time.  Before too long, we were bombarded by seals, who could not be fed quickly enough, in spite of all our attempts to organize and hustle.  The older pups soon learned to swallow and eagerly awaited feeding time, and eventually, got booted out of isolation to the outdoor nursery pools to make room for the newcomers.  Even still, there were not enough tubs for all, so they began to be paired up, with some enjoying the company of a buddy, while others seemed to resent sharing and, sometimes, lashed out at their roommate when not distracted and less stressed by swimming at bath time.  They were slowly introduced to fish as play toys in their baths and some did not seem terribly interested, while others mutilated the fish, and a few special individuals quickly taught themselves to swallow it whole.  The pools became increasingly chaotic as more seals graduated to the outdoors, even with the addition of a fourth pool about halfway through the season.   

Currently, there are seventeen seals in isolation, many of which are awaiting their turn to be moved outside, especially since they have already mastered hand-feeding fish.  Only seven more seals have arrived within the past few weeks, and things are slowing down, compared to the forty-something seals crammed into isolation less than two months ago, demanding much attention.  Every day, these pups move one step closer to freedom as they learn to feed in the water or feed themselves by diving after the fish tossed in the pools.  Just a couple of days ago, four pups were witnessed free-feeding and these suspicions were confirmed by their drastic weight gain over a matter of days.   

Now, after arriving at under twenty pounds, our first four seals, weighing in at around sixty pounds each, will be released today from the northeast of the island.  It is apparently a seal haven a short swim from here with lots of rock beds, less populated islands, and likely a wealth of food sources.  I wonder at how they will fair, how easily they will be accepted by established herds, how much of a shock to their systems the sea will be, especially as they hunt for their own food.  It is a day of mixed emotions with sadness at seeing our babies head out into the real world on their own and happiness that they made it to this point; that together, we successfully achieved the mission that we had set out to fulfill.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

The Beauty and Wonder of Nature

In spite of my pessimism, I have seen some amazing sights and beautiful animals, including ones out in the wild, for which I am incredibly grateful.  Pileated woodpeckers at home are a common song to hear, but not to physically see, apparently.  One day, as I was sitting in a wooden lawn chair outside of the kitchen, one swooped down from overhead and landed on a tree no more than ten meters away from me to the right of the little tool shed.  He scoped it out and then hopped to a spot closer to me on a stump, before flying off.  Then, three times over the past few weeks, I have heard an incessant buzzing noise that sounded like the mother of all bees, towards which I turned to see a hummingbird hovering stationary in the air.  Twice, it seemed to be observing the photographs of past rehabilitated and released animals posted outside of the kitchen or, perhaps, contemplating if the glass was a safe medium through which to travel, but, both times, they eventually went on their way.

Unfortunately, these tiny creatures do not fair well once injured.  Both hummingbirds that have been admitted as patients quickly passed on within the hour.  Although, circumstances seem to play a significant role in the outcomes, since two more have recently arrived at the center, an adult and a youngster, and have been doing quite well.  The hope is to later release them together, so that the young one may have some guidance.

Herons have been flying about and silently, gracefully stalking fish by the water’s edge at Fernwood Point.  I am always impressed by the agility and beauty of these birds, yet up close, they are apparently quite vicious.  At both Fernwood and Vesuvius Bay, pairs of bald eagles have engaged in brief chases through the air before going their separate ways, one back to the forest’s edge, perhaps returning to guard the nest, while the other glides away from the island.  At Fernwood yesterday, there were actually three, one smaller than the other two, who was making quite a racket, squawking and drawing attention to himself, perhaps a fledgling.

Many songbirds have visited the feeder at the center, some of which I can recall from home, but several are unfamiliar species.  I have only been able to identify a few positively, including the Red-breasted Nuthatch and Rofus-sided Towhee.  I have seen different species of chickadees from the familiar Black-capped Chickadee and, perhaps, a White-throated Sparrow. 

Along the seashore, there are large purple starfish stuffed into the nooks and crannies of the rocky shore and lying among the seaweed, hoping to avoid detection, even with a group of six clustered tightly together near the bottom of a dock post, although this made it difficult to count the individuals.  Vibrant red and orange seas cucumbers line the rock crevices along the shore and hermit crabs hide in tiny pools within shells that were likely once inhabited by dogwhelks.  The rocks are filled with holes no wider than my index finger, in which critters have sought refuge until the tide comes in again, including a possible ascidian that squirted a stream of water at me before retracting when I touched it.  More sprays of water shot up all along the shore from the bivalves hiding beneath the muddy beach.  I discovered nudibranch (sea slug) eggs in a gel-encased, spiral cluster attached to a rock surface facing the sea, but unfortunately, the water was far too murky and fraught with long blades of grass-like algae to be able to detect a parent slithering along the sea floor. 

Conifer trees cover the landscape, perfectly straight and erect, seeming to reach ever higher for the sky and attempting to catch the clouds.  It is hard to imagine that much of the woods here is second growth.  Little grows beneath these dense and towering stands, save for the shade loving mosses that carpet the forest floor, creating an image of an enchanted woodland, complete with a garden gnome in a rear section of the center.

There are lilacs here, for which I always pause to inhale their beautiful fragrance.  I am happy that I am not missing them.

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.

Individual Exploration

Early Wednesday morning, before the sun even rose, the love of my life boarded a bus to New York City, en route to the suburbs of Washington, D.C.  He’s off to get a fresh start, get back on his feet, explore a world outside of his comfort zone, and develop a relationship with his biological father, with whom he will be living.  I knew he was going to leave and I witnessed it with my own eyes.  Yet, after spending the past six months with him and being only an hour’s drive away, it’s hard to believe that he could be anywhere else.  We both have things that we want to do, individual lives to lead, and goals and dreams to pursue, so the time is not right for us to be together; at least not in convenient proximity to each other.  We just need to believe that our love is strong enough to withstand the test of time, and that one day, our paths may cross once again.

As for me, I finally get to begin a new adventure, and will be hopping on a plane bound for Seattle on May 12.  From there, I will be ferrying up to Salt Spring Island, which is located north of Victoria and southwest of Vancouver, British Colombia.  I have been accepted for an internship position at a wildlife rehabilitation center there, where I will delve deeper into this field.  I am hoping that a full-time position will provide me with adequate exposure to all aspects of the work, so that I can determine if it is something that I would like to pursue as a career.  I decided several months ago that instead of jumping about between a variety of different types of internships, as interesting as that would be, I should focus on a particular area of interest, so that I can get a better sense of the field and develop and refine skills to make myself a more appealing job candidate.

I have kept coming back to animal care positions over the course of my life, and I actually could see myself doing wildlife rehabilitation for the long-term, having spent a portion of the past two years volunteering for such work; at least this is the feeling for now.  It still aggravates me how everything is so incredibly subject to change.  I do worry about going over to Canada and discovering, as I go through the internship, that I could not make this my life’s work, forcing me to go back to the drawing board, and potentially spending another long break at home.  I am trying not to think too much about that and just enjoy the internship for what it is and deal with this issue if it even arises.  I hope to keep traveling for awhile, and I need to get myself in gear for that, after spending the past six months hanging about at home in my comfort zone.

Creating a Path

I am excited at the prospect to form further connections with animals that I am regularly in contact with during an internship position.  I feel torn.  I loved doing research, the life, the schedule, the intensity, and the reward.  I also keep coming back to working with animals.  Animal research, such as the technician positions that I am looking at seems to integrate these two interests to an extent, though I am unsure how similar it would be to Sherkin, since I do not think they would need to work with the tides, and it’s not quite the same experience as helping injured wildlife.  I am leaning towards rehabilitation now, just as I was leaning towards research when I was still on Sherkin.  My interests seem dependent on my environment, and so, constantly change.

Although, the change is no longer so drastic.  Early last year, I was pursuing the Peace Corps with the possibility of securing an environmental education position, somehow working with marine life, but the details were never divulged to me.  It was recommended that I gain more experience in this area, so I sought out a position to do so.  During this time I developed a renewed interest in birds from my last semester of college when I conducted an independent research project on them.  I was fortunate enough to get in at Sherkin, but this forced me to cancel my potential Peace Corps plans, as the dates of the positions conflicted.

While on Sherkin, I developed an appreciation for the ocean and the life that it supports.  I loved the field work and was actually able to see myself doing such work for more than just one season.  I wanted to remain by the sea.  I also wanted to work with animals a bit larger than the invertebrates on the rocky shore.  I thought that marine wildlife rehabilitation would be a good idea, but I also still wanted to work with birds, and there were so many interesting internships coming through my inbox.

Yet, I do not have the necessary qualifications for most birding positions, with limited identification, handling, and survey experience.  There are also only so many facilities accepting interns with the stipulations that I require in the realm of marine wildlife rehabilitation, so I started to settle with applying for inland positions as well.

This is how it has all developed, and in less than a year’s time.  I want to do something with animals.  This much I know.  But when it comes to crunch time, what will I choose?  How will I choose?  If I am accepted to a variety of positions.  I have to develop a more solid sense of what my goals are for this year and for the future, in order to determine what will be of greatest use to me.

Building Trust With a Raccoon

The raccoon who was trying to bite me less than two months ago has begun to allow me to pet him.  He needed time to get to know me and my intentions, and to distinguish me from the other volunteers.  I believe that volunteering an extra day for over a month now has helped greatly in this familiarization process, allowing him to adapt more quickly. 

When I started volunteering again in November, he would not leave the den box that he shared with another raccoon unguarded.  He would attack my hand even as it was approaching the entry way.  Occasionally, he would pace along the shelf towards the opposite side of the room, which would allow me to quickly scan the den box, but I rarely had enough time to change out the blanket, never mind sanitizing anything, since he would hastily return if I entered his home. 

I tried to convey to him that I had no intention of hurting him; that I just wanted to clean up, but fear got in the way.  It was difficult to maintain constant composure as he approached and I anticipated an attack, ready to back away.  I’m sure that this did not ease his skepticism of me.  Yet, I was hopeful that in time, he would become accustomed to me and relax a bit.  I also thought that perhaps by witnessing my friendly interactions with his companion, he would come to understand that I wanted to be close and share my love, and that I could indeed be trusted. 

Trust did in fact build, as after a few weeks had passed, we seemed to develop some kind of understanding regarding the cleaning of the den box.  He was still uncertain of me and tried to bite when I came to close to him, so he opted to remain at the opposite end of the shelf while I cleaned.  I was still a bit uneasy, as I did not want to risk having half of my body inside the den box when he would decide that that was too much and come over to let me know.  So I stuck to cleaning the front portion of the den box and laying down a fresh blanket.  I would close the door hatch, which covered half of the entry way, and tell him that I was finished.  Shortly after, he would return to the den box and oftentimes stay there with his companion.

A few weeks later, he began to regularly bathe just outside of the den box entry way, and sometimes at the opposite end of the top shelf, particularly when I was cleaning the den box.  Occasionally, he would pause to observe what I was doing, perhaps, so that he could better understand me.  I would make small talk with him as I went about my work, to which he seemed receptive.  Sometimes, all of that work would exhaust him, so that he would curl up in his bathing spot for a quick snooze.  Thinking back on that behavior now, he demonstrated even greater trust to allow himself to be asleep and vulnerable outside of his den box.

One day, I told him that I would happily pet him if he would not try to bite me.  That is what I hoped to achieve, although neither of us had yet reached that degree of trust.  I could not read his intentions and after being attacked so many times, that was all I expected him to do when I was too close.

At some point during that month, I started to remove my glove to let him familiarize himself with my scent, which I thought might make him feel more at ease.  I wanted to create a more realistic and trusting connection, showing him the real me.

Last week, the rehabilitation owner questioned if I was providing the raccoons with adequate attention and interaction, as they are education animals.  I expressed to her my uncertainty regarding the one; and I was surprised to learn that he actually would allow people to pet him, on occasion, and particularly, liked underneath his chin to be scratched.  With this new knowledge, I decided that I would give him another shot.

This week, I was able to give him a few quick pets before he wandered out of my grasp.  I even put myself in a vulnerable position, putting my trust in him, in which I allowed him to sniff my head.  However, I was not quite prepared for face to face, as I could do with the easy-going raccoon.  Yet, I did have to be careful not to lose my glasses to their toy supply.  Occasionally, he would still try to bite my hand, but this action was not as aggressive as before, and was, instead, similar to a cat's warning bite or swipe, when it tires of or becomes annoyed by the attention that it is receiving.  I was even able to fully clean the den box, though he still went off to his corner while I did so.  Yet, he did not attack when he approached, while I was still working in the den box.  He seemed more curious than concerned about what was going on.