General Update

Still not a whole lot going on at the RMRP, but certainly some interesting cases coming through the cages.  Here's the quick-and-dirty:

--First off, I can't remember if I told everyone that the Humans released the grill-head Red-Tailed Hawk! Remember him? He was found with his head stuck in the grill of a truck, and came in looking like this:

Very sick Red-Tailed Hawk after colliding with car

Well, he was released last week! Despite a fractured skull and awful head trauma, he's out there striking fear into the hearts of small rodents again. Congratulations to the RMRP for a job well done!

--Onto more current cases, a few days ago the Humans admitted a Cooper's Hawk that hit a house window...and shattered it. Can someone who's better at physics than an Owl please explain how a soft, feathery bird that weighs about half a pound can shatter a house window? Unfortunately, the outlook for this bird isn't hopeful, but it is a good reminder to keep your bird feeders away from windows, and apply decals to your windows if you have lots of birds zooming around.

--Admitted two baby Great-Horned Owls last week! Same nest, different days!  The first kid to come in was still very young. He was found at the base of the tree in fine health, but pretty vulnerable.  The Humans were able to put him back in the nest with his younger sibling.  Then, the very next day, the Humans had to rescue another young Owl from that same nest.  This one had gone out on his maiden flight and ended up standing in the middle of the road.  The Humans couldn't put that bird back in the nest because he was more flighted than his younger sibling. If they tried, the Humans would place him in the tree near the nest, he'd instantly fly away again because of the Human in his face, he'd end up on the ground, and the cycle would begin again.  Therefore, when the RMRP gets in mostly-flighted babies, they have to keep the baby until it's fully-flighted. So the mostly-flighted baby is here at the RMRP, finishing growing in feathers and learning how to be a fearsome creature.  Hm, I wonder where they put him?

Poor wing position, but excellent flight! Can't judge a book by it's cover...

--The Great Horned Owl with the luxated (dislocated) elbow is doing surprisingly well.  Despite the fact that he holds his wing out at an awkward angle, he's doing laps around his cage like nobody's business.  Soon he'll graduate to a cage with fewer perches to depend on.  Then he'll attend mouse school, and if he passes that he'll be released!

--The Red-Tailed Hawk with the broken foot is out of his splint and beginning to use the foot to grab the perch. That's excellent news because while wings need to be perfect for release, feet only need to be functional enough to grab perches and food, and this guy is well on the way to two functional feet.

--There are still FOUR Bald Eagles in house. Enough said.

SWHA's nest-building skills at work

--As for Educational Ambassadors, the female Common Barn Owl is busy rolling and tending her fake eggs, and the female Swainson's Hawk is contentedly arranging sticks in her cage.

And that's all the news for this week!  Time for me to get back to my baby.

How I came to be at the RMRP – Part I of IV – The Catastrophe

Today is the seven-year anniversary of an event that has had a huge impact on my life. It’s the story that has replayed itself in my mind a million times, but it took awhile to type it out…and not just because QWERTY keyboards were not designed for typists with eight talons.

It’s the story of how I came to the Rocky Mountain Raptor Program. It’s the story of how I came to be injured.

In the winter of 2005, I was a young bird, having only been out of the nest for a year and a half. My two voracious siblings and I had parted ways a long time ago, and I had been living a peaceful existence on my own since then. My territory was on the outskirts of Wellington, Colorado, farming country with lots of open fields and big cottonwoods.

The previous summer and fall had hosted thriving rodent populations, so I entered the winter season fat and happy. But the winter was harsher than I expected, and when the snows became deep and the rodents harder to find…well, I was getting hungry.

On the morning of my accident I was flying silently over snow-covered fields while the rising sun tinged the eastern skies orange and pink. Just as I approached a cluster of cozy-looking cottonwoods, I passed over a small two-lane highway and saw a raccoon that must have been hit by a car a few hours earlier. Since I’d spent the night fruitlessly searching for delicious mice to munch on, I wasn’t about to pass up a golden opportunity for free breakfast.

Banking hard, I curved around and descended toward the road, focusing hard on my upcoming meal. Just as I threw my wings back to brake for the landing, the world exploded.

I still am not clear on what happened that beautiful dawn morning. All I remember is the horribly close roar of tires on pavement, then a sunburst of pain that swiftly faded into a deep, black peace.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious on the side of the road. I remember glimpses of the sun rising higher and higher into a blue sky, then begining its descent towards the west. After that, all I have is flashes of images: a human standing over me, talking in low tones, then something dark and soft covering me; the feeling of being in an enclosed space that rocked and bumped and leaned; then being lifted through the air into the gloved hands of another Human.

I didn’t know it then, but I had landed at the Rocky Mountain Raptor Program in Fort Collins, Colorado, and my life had changed forever.

To be continued...