Duck nuggets and pellets

I was at the Midwest Native Plant Conference today with some of our birds.

Invariably, someone asks, "Why have raptors at a native plant conference?"  I don't answer the question for them, I let them answer it themselves.
Put native plants in your yard.
This attracts lots of great insects and other animals who depend on the native plants.
Raptors and other predators come and eat the prey that is attracted to the insects, etc, that are attracted to the native plants.  And the balance is achieved.  Easy.


So enough about native plants for now. Let's get to the gravy of my day.  I'm going to keep the words short because frankly, the photos and video stand well on their own.

I set up by some doors that led to a courtyard.  Well, there were ducks.  A mama duck and BABY DUCKS.
Baby ducks are my Kryptonite.  This loud and obnoxious gal turns into sugary goo when baby ducks are involved.

Here they are:












And after all the squealing and melting was done, I went back inside, where Sylvester was trying to cast a pellet.
Check out the laughing in the background...this woman seems to be a little bit off-balance.
But anyway....pellet time:

Bird Rescue 101

I get asked the same question over and over at my education programs.

"What do I do if I find an injured bird/baby bird?"

Thanks to the dudes over at 10,000 Birds for posting this.

If you love birds or nature in general, read this and remember it. And if you have a blog, why not post it, too?
*******************************

Suzie Gilbert is a wildlife rehabilitator in the Hudson Valley of New York State. She is also the author of Flyaway: How a Wild Bird Rehabber Sought Adventure and Found Her Wings, an excellent read that we reviewed and recommended. To make a long story short, in Flyaway there are several incidents described in which wild birds were brought to Suzie in worse condition than they might have been, mostly because people did not know what to do with an injured bird. Since we at 10,000 Birds often get inquiries from people asking what to do with an injured bird and none of we three bird bloggers feel qualified enough to give unequivocal answers we figured we could get Suzie to do it, and, much to our delight, she has! So, if you have a lonely nestling, an injured fledgling, or a sick duck you’ve come to the right place!

Welcome to Wild Bird Rescue 101!

Being a rehabber myself, I can tell you that we can be hard to find, especially when there’s an emergency and you need someone fast. So here’s a quick primer on what to do if you should find a sick/injured/nestling/fledgling songbird/waterbird/gamebird/raptor.

There are three rules that cover all birds in all circumstances:

1. If there are flies involved, the bird needs immediate rescue, even if you don’t see any sign of injury. Leaving a bird in the middle of circling flies will always mean a bad end for him.
2. Never attempt to put water down a bird’s throat. You will drown him, or at least fill his lungs with enough water to give him an eventual case of pneumonia. Do not attempt to feed a wild bird unless you have talked to a rehabber.
3. Wash your hands after handling wildlife. There’s no need for alarm; it’s just a rule of thumb. A good hand wash with regular soap is all you need.

Here is information for specific situations:

Nestling songbirds: if you find one on the ground, try to find the nest. If you find it, pick up the nestling and put him back, even if this means getting out the big ladder. A nestling’s best chance of survival is with his parents; birds (except for vultures and pigeons) have a poor to non-existent sense of smell, and the parents won’t care if you’ve handled their baby as long as they get him back. If you cannot find the nest but the parents are around, you can make a nest out of a small plastic blueberry basket or margarine tub (poke holes in the bottom so it won’t fill with water during rain), line it with leaves or dry grass, and hang it from a protected branch; keep watching to make sure the parents have resumed care. If the nestling is obviously injured, or has been touched by a cat, you’ll have to find a rehabilitator (see end of article); nestlings need to eat every 20 minutes, so you’ll have to find one quickly. Meanwhile, get a small box. Take a hand towel (or small piece of material), twist and curve it into a donut shape, and place it in the box; take another hand towel and drape it over the donut so it becomes a makeshift nest. Place some Kleenex over the second towel, so it can be easily cleaned if the bird poops, then put the bird in. Put another small towel over the top of the box to conserve heat, because nestlings become chilled easily.

Fledgling songbirds: The fledgling part of a bird’s life is filled with danger. Normally they climb out of the nest, hop from branch to branch, lose their balance, fall down, then climb back up again. The problem is if they encounter humans or domestic pets. If you find a healthy fledgling, odds are the parents are still taking care of him, and are probably watching nearby. If he’s on the ground, pick him up and put him in a leafy bush or the branch of a tree, anything that will provide some protection, and let the parents take over. Keep pets and children out of the area for at least two hours. If you check again in two hours and he is still there, or if he is obviously injured, you’ll need to call a rehabilitator. Fledglings can be temporarily housed in a box or small pet carrier, just put a small towel on the bottom so they can grip. As with all birds, once the bird is in a dark box leave him alone in a quiet place while you find help; stress, as well as injury, can kill a bird.

A word about outdoor cats: other than habitat loss, there is nothing more destructive to wild birds than outdoor cats. If a cat touches a bird, it’s a dead bird. Cats’ teeth and claws are crawling with bacteria, especially pasteurella; even if the bird does not appear injured, any tiny nick will become infected and slowly kill him – unless he is immediately taken to a rehabber and put on antibiotics. If you care about birds, please keep your cats indoors. If you are an indoor cat owner, bless you – you are an environmental hero.

Adult songbirds: for birds who are stunned by a window strike … place the bird in a cardboard box with a hand towel on the bottom, make sure all pets are inside, and put the box in a protected area – under a bush, in a garden, etc. Check the box in a half hour, with any luck the bird will have flown away. In frigid weather, punch airholes in the box, place the bird in, close the lid, bring him inside, and leave the box in a bathroom for a half hour. Open the box to check carefully – the reason you’re in the bathroom is so if the bird recovers and manages to escape, you don’t end up chasing him through your house and having him slam into yet another window, this time from the inside. If he hasn’t recovered, call a rehabber. For all other injuries, place the bird in the same kind of box and call a rehabber.

Young waterbirds: as with songbirds, it is vital to make sure that all young waterbirds really are parentless before removing them from their habitat. Keep watching to make sure that the parents aren’t nearby, trying to avoid drawing attention to their young.

Adult waterbirds: injured adult ducks, geese and gulls can be caught by throwing a towel or blanket over them, then carrying them to a box or a pet carrier. Swans, herons and egrets are difficult birds and I do not recommend trying to catch them … but if you decide to do it anyway … swans are amazingly strong, so be careful. Throw a towel or blanket over the head, then hold the head with one hand and encircle the body with your other arm. Be even more careful with herons and egrets, especially herons, as they may try to strike at your eyes with their beaks. Throw the towel over the bird’s head, then hold the beak with one hand and encircle the body with your other arm. If you are able to get anywhere near a heron or egret it means they are in dire straits, so get him to a rehabber ASAP – but be careful of that beak.

Gamebirds: follow directions for ducks and geese. Be careful of the spurs on the back of adult male turkeys’ legs.

Nestling raptors: Please encourage everyone you know not to cut down trees in the springtime! This leads to all kinds of injured and homeless nestlings, especially cavity-nesters, like woodpeckers and screech owls. Nestling raptors also need a rehabber as soon as possible; they have to eat entire animals or they will develop debilitating and sometimes fatal calcium deficiencies. It is often possible to put a nestling raptor back in its nest; this is tricky, and if you’re dealing with a large raptor dangerous, so it’s best left to the rehabber.

Fledgling and adult raptors: By the time they fledge, raptors are as large or larger than their parents. As with songbirds, the parents continue to feed them and teach them the ropes. Obviously, care should be taken when trying to rescue an injured adult raptor. If possible, use heavy gloves, a blanket, and a cardboard box or pet carrier. Tilt the box on its side and try to push the bird into the box with the blanket. If they are able, raptors tend to flip onto their backs and grab at their rescuer with their feet (believe me, you do not want them to connect); if they grab the blanket, simply lift them up and then lower them into the box. Once the bird is in the box, close the lid or drape the towel or blanket over the top; if it is dark inside, they won’t struggle. By fall, many young raptors are starving; only 80% of them make it through their first year. A raptor sitting on the ground may simply be a young one who hasn’t mastered his hunting skills and is too weak to fly. A rehabilitator can fatten him up and give him another chance.

Crows: Ah, crows. It is tempting to keep a nestling crow for awhile before surrendering him to a rehabber, as they are so smart, personable, and happy to accept your hospitality. But they imprint in a heartbeat, and an imprinted crow has almost no chance of ever joining a flock and living like a crow should live. A rehabber will find potential siblings and eventually release him. By the time crows are fledglings their parents have taught them to be scared to death of humans, so injured fledgling or adult crows should be caught with a towel and placed in a box.

How to find a rehabilitator [This information is intended for those in the United States, though the first and third would apply to everyone. If you have information about finding rehabbers in a country outside the United States please include your information in the comments]:

1. Google (Your State) “wildlife rehabilitator” (or “wildlife rehabilitation”). There should be a list. Call around; even if the rehabilitator listed is fairly far from you, they may know someone closer who’s not on the list.
2. Go to the National Wildlife Rehabilitators Association Website. On the homepage, click “Need Help?” on the left side, click “Finding a rehabilitator” and go to the third option, Rhonda DeVold’s listings.
3. Call your local veterinarian, humane society, animal control officer, or animal protection organization; most local animal people know each other.

It can be wonderfully satisfying to rescue an injured bird and know that you’ve given her another chance at life. Just be careful, and make sure that the bird actually needs to be rescued!

Babies without families

I don't get many injured bird pick-up calls for RAPTOR. I'm on the list as a "last resort".
So when dispatch calls, I know they went through numerous calls before dialing my number.

The phone rang this morning, and when I saw it was dispatch (a local bird store, Wild About Birds), I got excited...the girls and I had no plans today.
"Susan? Want to go get a peregrine downtown?"
"Do I WANT to go get a peregrine? Does a bear .........?"
I took all the info, called the person who had the bird (a printing company downtown) and stuffed the girls in the car.

The company had boxed the bird already ("That is one AGGRESSIVE bird! And I've never seen anything like it!"), so I put my gloves on and slowly lifted the lid of the box.

Ummmm.
This was not a peregrine.
This was not even a BIRD OF PREY.

It was this:


A young Common Nighthawk. (Chordeiles minor)
(Gloves get thrown down with a sigh)

Non-birders: Though this bird has the word "hawk" in its name, this is not a hawk. This is a bird in the nightjar family. Nightjars, though, to confuse the issue, are in the same ORDER as owls.
To refresh memories out there: The biological classification of species goes like this:
Domain
Kingdom
Phylum
Class
Order
Family
Genus
Species
*A good mnemonic for this is "Keep Ponds Clean Or Frogs Get Sick".
Another one is "King Penguins Congregate On Frozen Ground Sometimes". *
I like the frog one myself.

So a Common Nightjar's taxonomy is like this, starting with Class:
Class: Aves (Birds)
Order: Strigiformes (goatsuckers, owls)
Family: Caprimulgidae (Nighthawks and Nightjars)
Subfamily: Chordeilinae
Genus: Chordeiles

Okay. Who's confused?
Anyway...


Though their beaks appear tiny and insignificant, follow the gape of the mouth from the beak tip to the eye....they can open that maw like a frog.
All the better to snap flying insects out of the air.

Since this is decidedly NOT a raptor, and I am not qualified to say if it was truly injured, I called Marilyn. Marilyn is a rehabber at RAPTOR, Inc., but she also does songbirds, water birds, etc.
She sounded so tired when I talked to her on the phone. We rarely even SEE Marilyn during songbird nesting season because she is always up to her Toches in baby birds until Summer is over.
But as luck would have it, she was on her way to Eden Park to try and foster a baby Mallard into an existing flock, so I met her there to hand off the nighthawk.

She said that nighthawks are extremely difficult to rehab because of their high stress levels. But she also said she would try to return it to the building it flew off of (nighthawks will nest on flat-topped gravel roofs.)

And here's her baby Mallard, in all its ducky fuzziliciousness:
(This whole business reminded me of Beth's post about Ethel and Lucy's babies)



It didn't go well. If you have to introduce a single baby duck into an existing brood, the duck you have HAS to be the same age as the babies you are trying to blend it with. Otherwise, the foster duckling gets pecked to death or shunned.

Unfortunately for Baby Duckling, the other ducklings were just a bit older, and larger.
Love this picture...
looks like the duckling is saying, "Are YOU my mother?" to the house sparrow:


One of the mother ducks was aggressive to the duckling:



"HELP! MARILYNNNNNN!!!!"


The duckling kept running back to Marilyn...so Marilyn decided this wasn't going to work, and will keep the duckling until she can either find a compatible flock, or wait until it's grown (10 more weeks!) and release it as an adult.
Poor Marilyn....

Of course, I had to use this opportunity to photograph MY ducklings with the fuzzy little thing:


So. Two baby birds without families. But hopefully I will be able to update everyone about the outcomes of these two stories.

Sigh. Wish it had been a peregrine.

Save.

My Mom was thrilled a few weeks ago when phoebes built a nest above her porch light. She kept me informed of the progress and today said that the female had left the nest. Awesome...eggs had hatched!
We went over to Mom's for a visit, and we watched the male flit about the yard.



I hadn't noticed them visiting the nest at all, so I walked around to the front porch.
Two babies, on the cement under the nest.
"Mom....MOM! Get a ladder!"

I picked them up....one was ice cold and still. One was barely moving and also cold.

Oh God. Maybe a day old? Had been laying on cold cement for who knows how long? Okay. Don't panic....warmth. It needs warmth. I cupped it in my hand and started breathing warm air onto the baby. I kept it up while Mom ran for the ladder.
As I was warming the baby with my breath, I noticed tickling and pinching around my lips. I looked at my hands and saw feather mites running about. Great. Feather mites on my mouth.
(there have been a lot of gross things near my lips lately)
Instead of freaking out, I blew my lips like a horse to blow the mites off in between warm breaths to the baby.

I climbed the ladder and looked at the nest. The side had been pulled, like a larger bird had tried to get in. Starlings? Blue Jays?
I felt in the nest...no other babies....but got a few more mites.
I placed the baby back in (and at this point it had warmed up enough to really be moving and had started to peep....thank God)

We vacated the porch and went inside to let the parents get back to the nest. After a few minutes, I wondered if the phoebes were too freaked from the attack to go back.
I will say thank GOD for Julie Zickefoose...I remembered this post, where she helped a fledgling Carolina Wren find its family by using an iPod to call them back.
I grabbed my iPod, complete with BirdJam (Hi, Jay!!!) and did the Eastern Phoebe call.




Both of the parents popped up in the yard. Come on, guys....you have one baby left.
We waited anxiously and quietly in the house, until we observed the female visit the nest several times, until she finally settled in to brood her one remaining baby.

Thank you, Julie...and thank you, BirdJam.

Will Julie be proud of me? :)

(For the record, I washed off the mites.)

Real things I saw today, even though it's April Fool's Day

I love being a birder. I think I've said that before.
Being plugged in to the avian world makes us privy to a whole host of interesting things. We can marvel at a new bird, ponder a behavior. I saw lots today.

It started with a new yard bird:


Yard bird #59. Brown thrasher. It was kick/scratching under the feeders, then took off for the big maple.
And it was singing. Glorious.

A yellow-rumped warbler landed right next to my car at Lake Isabella, and just looked at me.




Three red-shouldered hawks were circling the yard and calling out in their wonderfully screamy voices.

Gratuitous cute kid/dog photo:

Lorelei was singing, as usual, waving her newly-acquired dandelion. And Hooper leaned in for a sniff.

Nellie was keeping her eye on me, as usual.

"Where's Mom? Oh, there she is. Is she going to get up? I better be ready. Mom? Need me?"

She is my shadow...always near and always worried that I might disappear.

This is Roxy:

She is a Tibetan Yak-Dog.
April Fools. She belongs to Swami. (And she's a Shetland Sheepdog)

Being a long-haired breed, this dog makes lots and lots of loose hair. Lorelei and I brushed her, Hooper, Nellie and whatever cat we could grab and stuffed all that hair into a cardboard tube and hung it outside (birds will use it to line their wee sweet nests)

I wasn't back in the house 10 seconds before someone landed and started plucking:

Tufted titmouse


Bearded titmouse



It was so cool to watch. I've left hair out there before, but usually I just brush the dogs outside and let the hair float away. This was fun!

The titmouse left and a white-breasted nuthatch took its place.


Each bird would grab some with its beak, then maneuver it around, grabbing some with its feet, then rearranging and grabbing it again with the beak. All this grabbing and rearranging helped them carry as much as possible. Birds are just so efficient.

Beauty, beauty everywhere

You know, life is good. Sure, it can kick you in the nads occasionally, but looking around today, I saw all the good stuff.

Some of the good stuff:



Mom's house wrens have little ones.
(I can't resist..."FEED ME, SEYMOUR!")



A butterfly (where the heck is my field guide???) paused in the afternoon sun, long enough for me to get a photo.
UPDATE: Hackberry Emperor


Mom has a wisteria, and it's growing these weird yet lovely pods. MINE doesn't grow pods...it sends out runners and is bent on world domination. These pods reminded me of the baby rats...same hair-do.



My girls dance and frolic among bubbles...in front of Dad's garage. Gulp. Yeah, I got choked up, because this is the building he practically lived in. But that sadness is beautiful too, because I am reminded of how much people loved him and miss him still.


My youngest thinks she is very strong. God, I hope she is. Because a strong woman is a beautiful woman.


Ditto for this photo.



This child, 20 minutes before this photo was taken, was bawling her eyes out because she and Isabelle were having a sleepover at Mom's (she's a bit of a home-body). I have a program tomorrow and I needed childcare. That cranky kid became a happy, dancing sprite. Beautiful.



Coming home this evening, without kids to make all the birds bolt as they run to the house to escape the cicadas, I got the chance to watch a robin fly home with a worm to feed the newest babies in the yard.



And a chance afternoon sunbeam through leaded glass can make a boring stretch of gray carpet into a painting.

See? Life is good.

Can't swing a cat without hitting a baby around here

Everywhere I look, there are babies.

The ratties are one day old and have changed even in that short time.

Here's one at 12 hours old:

For those of you who haven't owned fresh, new rats: It's okay (and a good idea) to handle the babies as soon as they have had a chance to nurse at least once. They will recognize your scent and be a much nicer pet. You just have to watch out for the Mom. Since we only had Pearl for one day before she gave birth, we were unsure of her personality when NOT pregnant.
Mom rats can be testy (understandably so), but Pearl is more interested in climbing up my arm to my shoulder than me picking up her babies.
And Pearl is a good Mom...as rats usually are. Better than some people, if you ask me. You will never see a rat dump her babies into a dumpster or set them on fire because they got a bad grade.

Here's the whole posse:
(If you count, you will only see 10, but there's one at the bottom of the piggy pile)

They start out wrinkled and kind of naked mole-rattish, but in one day, I can see them filling out a bit. And their sweet little skins are so thin, you can see that they have nursed (it's called a "milk band")
I promise that I won't be posted every single day about the rats. Just when they do something cute. Or roll over. Or squeak.
: )

A bored (oops, I mean BOARD) meeting at RAPTOR's Red Barn produced more babies.

A phoebe nest right next to the barn door.
And speaking of phoebes...I was talking to my Mom on the phone today, and a cedar waxwing landed on the weeping cherry tree. I started stammering, trying to tell Mom what was out there. Two minutes later, a PHOEBE landed on the "waiting perch" on the feeder! New yard bird!

On the back of the barn, way up above what used to be the hay loft, a messy, robin-ish nest:


And on the far side of the barn, a swallow-ish nest on some siding that needs repositioning:


I really like having board meetings at the Red Barn. Adjacent to the Cincinnati Nature Center, it's a delicious habitat. I heard or saw:
Eastern Phoebe
Yellow-billed Cuckoo
Carolina Wren
American Robin
Pileated Woodpecker
Carolina Chickadee
White-breasted Nuthatch

Ever board meeting in the world should be serenaded by a Wood Thrush. It should be in every company's by-laws.

And more bird babies are showing up at home:

A young cardinal, with that comical, tiny crest. A bird that looks like a squeak toy, instead of the State bird of Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, North Carolina, Ohio, Virginia and West Virginia.


Also on the home front...
We have been keeping this a secret from the girls, but we made deposits and paid for flights this morning, so we told them: We are taking a vacation in August. To the Everglades. And a hotel on the beach. The one thing that the girls have always wanted (well, in their short cute little lives), was a trip to a real beach on a real ocean. I have begun my research of birds that are in Florida in August.

A bit later in the year, I plan on doing Cape May again. A money jar is officially in service on the kitchen counter, marked, "Susan's Cape May Fund". So hopefully, we can replicate the blast Susan, Laura, Delia and I had again this year! Can we get Lynne there? Mary? Kathi? Nina? Liza? Ruthie? TRIXIE???? Or anyone else on my blog roll who is cool? I mean, we are a Flock. Aren't we supposed to go places together?

UPDATE: I forgot to add this bit of great news:
Peregrine falcons are nesting in a nearby county, a place where, in the 204 years of that county's history, they never have before.
Click HERE.

"Houston, we have a pupa..."

(I was so proud of that title when I thought it up, I had to call Geoff and tell him about it)

Snookie is wrapped up in a sweet, surprisingly tiny chrysalis. I was surprised at how small it was...in pictures on other's blogs, etc, they look big, like the size of a bowl of a spoon...but it's less than 2 inches long. And you can't really call them cocoons, because they don't spin silk like moths do. Chrysalis or pupa.

I wanted to be there to videotape it turning into a pupa, but we were gone.
But you can bet your bippy I will be there to videotape the emergence!

You know other birds point and laugh.


And a totally different bird:


I found this juvenile male cardinal yesterday (with just a beginning of sheathed red feathers), weakly "chipping" near the fountain. I had my camera, so I got one quick pic, examined it to see if it was flighted (it wasn't) and took it in to get a box and to call Marilyn, one of our RAPTOR rehabbers who also treats songbirds.
The poor bird died in my hands in less than two minutes.



This is one of two emotions that owls have.
One is disgust, and the other one is this...startled.
News: Our gray screech owl has made a full recovery from her foot infection, and should be back at RAPTOR tomorrow! Yippee!
Now the red SO won't be publicly humiliated anymore. He can molt in peace. And by the way, I have seen "Molt" also spelled "Moult". They are both correct, right? English is stupid sometimes.

Okay, birders...someone please, please tell me I can put these on my life list...


Guinea fowl!
They were out in the middle of nowhere (no house anywhere near them), and ranging free. Someone tell me that this is a well-established introduced species that is now part of our avifauna.
What do you think? Listable?



News:
My Mom, the woman who didn't get an answering machine until the late 1990's, now has a freakin' lap top.


...With a wireless connection, which I connected for her, I might add.
She's entered the 21st century. I'll be dipped.
(Look at the fingers sticking up...I think she is afraid that it might blow up if she touches it too roughly.




Can't find the ID for this moth.
You'd think those "T" shapes would be easy to find in a guide.

Mom's wrenlets are big and fluffy and strong. At least a few baby bewds came from that nest box.

Tomorrow, I get to meet a fellow blogger. Trixie is in Cincinnati and we are going to meet up and let the kids play (so we can talk, hopefully), and I'm sure it will be bloggalicious.