The Kindness of Rehabbers

In a week bringing news about grey wolves shot and poisoned in Idaho and a naturalist attacked and left for dead by badger baiters in England, I have also seen love and devotion for helpless Virginia wildlife. The human spectrum that arcs from cruelty to altruism is astounding, if all too familiar.

I write about rehabbers. They are AWARE volunteers, mostly women, trained and licensed to help injured and distressed wildlife. They care for road casualties and orphans in the breeding season, besides all the accidents that can befall wild creatures, potentially any with a backbone (arthropods can’t repair broken parts and starfish need no help to regenerate an arm!).

Corn snake

When an animal is rescued, it is triaged to weigh its chances of recovery. Pro bono services from veterinarians provide advice, medication and surgery as necessary for repairing a broken wing, healing the stump of an amputated leg, nursing concussion, etc. Too often, euthanasia is the merciful decision.

Although they might wish otherwise, rehabbers can’t accept all-comers because each chooses to focus on particular groups of animals. The national status of Bald Eagles requires sending to one of the wildlife hospitals in Virginia. Recently, I heard of one given chelation treatment after eating carrion contaminated with lead shot, but unfortunately too late to save it.

American Kestrel

The ultimate goal is to rehabilitate animals so they can be returned to nature. This brings relief and satisfaction, although sometimes a bittersweet parting after weeks of intimacy with wildness. Some patients restored to health are still too disabled to survive on their own, yet often have long lives with their carers as ‘ambassadors’ for the education program.

On the day I attended a demonstration along with other master naturalists we saw a box turtle and corn snake (pictured), two owls, an American Kestrel (pictured), Red-shouldered Hawk and Osprey, two vultures and several bunnies and nestlings. All in a day’s work as they say! A long day when chicks need a special diet fed by hand every 45 minutes until sundown!

Volunteers set aside part of their property to accommodate patients and year-round ambassadors. They pay out of pocket for expenses not covered by donations or fees from education. Other family members and friends touched by the plight of vulnerable animals and seeing the labor of caring for them offer helping hands. We mostly have only fleeting glimpses of wild animals, who have little reason to trust us, but here is an example of the kindness of strangers, whose hearts are kinder than in the famous play that coined the cliché.

Listen to a Rehabber:

Next Post: Northern Parula

Flight of a Russian Queen

Something attracting honeybees

Since early March my Russian bee colony has grown like gangbusters. With no sign of the dreaded mite, Varroa destructor, they are living up to their reputation for resistance. They have already filled most frames with honey and nectar plus yellow and orange pollen to feed larvae as bee bread.  

Last week a shadow fell over my optimism. A patch of several hundred bees crawled on the ground near the hive. I guessed they were attracted by a queen, possibly a recently hatched virgin. But gently turning the heap with my bee brush I only found workers and a few drones. That evening they were gone but the next morning reappeared at same location. This repeated for three more days. Each time I never saw a queen despite great care.

What did it mean? Healthy and proved so by buzzing me. No chemical attractant or pesticide in the grass. Honeybees don’t nest in the ground.

Searching again today, I found a queen, unmistakable with short wings and long abdomen striped black and amber instead of tan. I suppose I missed her before, perhaps hidden at the base of grass stems. A pity because she was sluggish from hunger outside the hive for days. She might have recovered if I found her sooner to replace in the hive. But perhaps she was already weak onleaving with a small swarm, only able to fly a few yards.

I knew there was a risk that the hive might become queenless because it is bloated and this is swarm season. But I wasn’t sure I found the reigning monarch.

The next 30 minutes I annoyed tens of thousands of resident bees by examining every frame in all the boxes. On a warm day, I began to cook inside my beesuit. The boxes were so laden I struggled to lift them. I slowly pored over the masses of crawling insects as squadrons flew around my head, vainly searching for a queen.

Although queenless, the hive is far from dead—yet. I urgently need to find someone who can supply a new queen to save the colony. Uneasy lies the head who seeks a wearer of the crown.

Next Post: Eastern Screech Owl

Red-tailed Hawk

Red-tailed Hawk

Inge captured this beauty perched in a tree watching spivvy cedar waxwings feeding in a holly tree. The berry eaters ought to be grateful their guardian stood close by that day until giving up to hunt other small birds and mammals or frogs and snakes.

I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk

Between me and the crying of the frogs?

Oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass …

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

See a Red-tail sitting on three eggs at the Cornell Lab’s live cam in Ithaca, NY