Bald Eagle Rehab

I recalled this experience after reading about the bald eagle that was rescued in Oregon this past week.  He had been hit by a vehicle on I-84 and had to be euthanized due to the severity of his injuries.  This story has a happier ending, but at the outset, you never know.

"There's a really big bird under some brush on our property and it isn't moving much.  Another big bird comes and goes like it's visiting, but the one bird won't leave.  Would you come and check it out?"
This was the message received at the wildlife center one late winter day.  Our director was right on it.  It turned out to be an injured female bald eagle.  Her mate was bringing her food, faithfully returning each day with a fresh kill.   It was lucky he did that, as it kept her alive until she was rescued.
Weak and hurting, but still very feisty, she was swaddled in a big, thick blanket and carefully transported back to the center.  Initial assessment showed that one leg was bent at a very bad angle - no doubt broken.

In fact, it was so severely broken that after surgery, she had to wear an external fixation device on the leg for a period of weeks.  Trips back to the vet who had done the surgery followed so that x-rays could track healing of the bone.  Transporting an eagle in a giant dog kennel in the back of your truck is an interesting experience.  You just hope that the bridge isn't closed and traffic is moving well.

Healing was a slow, slow process.  More than once we feared that the bone wasn't going to heal properly.  The bird looked as miserable as she was.  Hunkered in her enclosure, she would scold us loud and long when we approached, even when we carried a nice fresh meal.  We all had to keep the faith that she would improve and fly free again.  She kept eating, which is a  good sign.  If a bird or critter stops eating, trouble probably lies ahead.

Over a period of months the bones did heal.  It was a day of celebration when she was moved to the flight cage for increased activity.  This is bird physical therapy.  If you've ever been inactive due to a major injury or illness, you know how weak and wasted muscles can become.  Same for birds and animals.  She hadn't used her flight muscles for months.  Her wings needed strengthening in order to allow her to fly sustained distances and to hunt.

The flight cage is narrow and long with lots of greenery: small trees, grass and shrubs inside.  It has high, sturdy perches at each end.  Heavy screening provides lots of fresh air, so it feels like outside even though the bird is still captive.

We watched her tentatively stretch her wings and make her first effort at flight in months.  It was wobbly and short, but she did it.  We put her food at the opposite end to where she liked to perch.  And, as we cleaned the big area, she would fly from one end to the other in order to avoid us.  This provided valuable exercise.  We watched her get stronger and sleeker, and her in-your-face attitude increased too - if possible!  But that was a good thing.

Rehab is a slow process.  If a bird of prey isn't strong enough to survive at release, all of the bird's and caregivers' efforts will have been wasted.  The eagle stayed in the flight cage for a period of weeks until she flew effortlessly and accurately (not missing the perch she was flying to).  She ate her food with gusto, leaving just a few feathers and bones each day.

Release day finally came.  We try to release eagles in the same area in which they were found when injured.  Many months had passed and reports were that the male had found a new mate.  This is understandable.  His drive was to mate and create more bald eagles and his former mate had disappeared, despite his efforts to help her.  We released the female one sunny, cold morning near the Lewis & Clark River.

All the caregivers gathered around, including the vet who had worked so hard to heal her.  She was in the giant dog crate again, and one brave volunteer reached around, unlatched the door and quickly pulled it open.  She burst from the opening, jumped into the air and quickly flew with strong, deep wing beats.  She went quite a distance before wheeling and landing near the top of a big Doug fir.

High 5's all around and a few tears.  There's nothing like giving back.

Birding in San Jose del Pacifico, Oaxaca

While spending time in Oaxaca city in the state of Oaxaca in southern Mexico, we decided to explore the mountainous areas surrounding the city.  Oaxaca rests in a valley between three mountain ranges.  The Majestic Sierra Madre del Sur rises to the south, climbing to about nine thousand feet. At the top, a dense pine-oak forest is interspersed with tree ferns, brilliant orchids and meters-long climbing vines. Tiny red salvia flowers and orange paintbrush generously dot the road which is carved from the steep mountain.  Many of the simple homes along the road  at the higher elevations have plant nurseries.  Colorful pots of flowers line up in neat rows against the steep hill.  Pink and red begonias flourish here, as do rich blue Nile lillies and white calla lillies.  The people carry baskets of these blooms into Oaxaca city to sell in one of the many markets.

The small hamlet of San Jose del Pacifico perches along the highway near the summit of the mountain range.  The land drops off precipitously just one house beyond the road, which continues on to the Pacific Ocean.  Just outside town is a small rustic resort called Puesta del Sol.  Carved out of the steep hillside, it comprises eighteen charming wood cabanas (cabins), some with fireplaces for the very chilly evenings.  Every cabana comes with a generous porch and comfy chairs from which to take in the panoramic view. Land drops off steeply, providing a view of literally miles of forested hills.  Black vultures and hawks cruise below eye level.  The grounds of the resort are generously planted with flowers and trees that invite all manner of birds.  I'll get to that in a minute.

There is a restaurant on the grounds which serves delicious traditional Mexican fare as well as beer and mescal.  On the days we stayed, the waitress's quiet and charming little girl peeked shyly around tables to look at the  gringos.  A deck, only partially fenced, provides another breathtaking view of the valleys below.  Cafe de olla, Oaxacan coffee lightly flavored with cinnamon and sugar, tasted great while watching the white-eared hummingbirds feed on the tall, purple coffee flowers outside the window.

We had returned to this area with the excuse of finding the southern race of Stellar's Jay.  This far south in Mexico, the subspecies is bluer and has different facial markings than the jay which occurs farther north and in North America.   Jays are usually right upfront, not shy and quite vocal: not a skulky bird!   But we hadn't seen nor heard this jay last year.  We were hoping for a glimpse this time, but we knew we'd see enough incredible birds to make us happy, either way.

When we arrived at Puesta del Sol and began our steep climb down to our cabin, we were greeted by the crystal chime song of the brown-backed solitaire.  There is nothing quite like this song.  It's a lovely descending call in what sounds like two-part harmony.  Echoing off the valley sides in the early evening quiet, it sounded simply ethereal.   We were even lucky enough to see the bird who was singing perched below us, looking out over the steep valley as he sang.  What a welcome.  White-eared hummingbird males aggressively guarded their patches of purple tobacco.
From our perch on the porch we could see a small flock of grey silky-flycatchers moving around in the scrub trees below us.  Their long tails and rich yellow-grey bodies shone in the sun.
Audubon's warblers crowded the mountain oak next to our cabin and moved constantly from there to a nearby mountain ash.  Black-vented and Bullock's orioles climbed slowly in a maple-like tree that sported amazing red flowers that appeared to have a clawed bird's foot sticking out of each flower.  The orioles were savoring the nectar held in those flowers.  Higher in the same tree was a rose-breasted grosbeak, his breast showing a pink-red line down his white front as if he had spilled raspberry juice.   So although no jay appeared for us this first day, we were happy.

Night fell and the temperature dropped dramatically. After a delicious dinner during which we watched a spectacular sunset through clouds pushed in from the ocean, we headed carefully back down the path to our cabana.  On the way we met the senor who lights the fires in each cabin.  In a wheelbarrow, he carried a load of very dense oak pieces and kindling for the fire.  His secret to starting the fire was to place a bed of sawdust chips first, then kindling, then oak.  Then more sawdust for good measure.  Then a healthy squirt of diesel from a detergent bottle.  We had a crackling fire in no time.  He instructed us to add the oak sparingly in order to make the fire last till morning.  What a cozy feeling to be tucked away in a mountain cabin with a good fire and heavy blankets.  We did have to add logs to the fire during the night but we must have timed it wrong, as our fire only lasted till about four a.m.    It was cold cold cold when we got up!   But as soon as the sun came over the ridge and fell on our front porch, we were warm again.  From long johns to T shirt in fifteen minutes.  That's how it is in the Sierra Madre Sur in winter.

Before heading up for breakfast I stuck my head out the door as I heard a familiar and welcome call - a jay.  Slightly different from our northern Stellar's jay call, but completely recognizable.  And he was right next to us in the mountain oak.  Of course, being a jay, he was way up in the top, cruising for breakfast.  I think jays look like monkeys in trees, easily loping from one branch to another, climbing easily and quickly.   Standing with my neck bent to the max, trying to stay away from the drop-off in front of our cabin, I caught a few good glimpses.  I saw his dark crest bobbing as he moved, and his dark blue belly.  I watched as he finally flew, doing his flap flap cruise, flap flap cruise flight. 

We spent the morning wandering the grounds and walking the short distance into town for a cup of locally grown coffee and a yummy torta (sandwich) for lunch.  The afternoon passed quickly as we followed the activity of the birds below our cabin and watched the sun move across the winter sky.  Dusk returned, and the birds flew down into the valley to more protected and warm areas below.  We did the same, moving in to enjoy a glass of very smooth mescal as we watched the fog push in from the ocean. The moon rose to sail in and out of the mist as our fire was lit once again to guard against the cold of the coming mountain night.