Where the Bluebird Sings

A Wildlife Journal for North Carolina

Sunday, April 12, 2009

It Works

“There’s a cat and a bird in the basement,” Dave said, softly closing the basement door behind him.

“A cat? A bird?” It took me a minute to comprehend why he was standing in front of me calmly explaining he had left both predator and prey alone. I had visions of opening the door and finding feathers floating through the air.


I was relieved when all I saw was the neighbor’s cat, Pumpkin, sitting at the bottom of the steps, hoping she could convince me to open a can of Mariner’s Catch. She seemed oblivious to the Carolina wren flittering around in the unfinished half of the room. Both had come in through the door I left ajar after hanging laundry outside.

I quickly scooted Pumpkin out the door and tried to recall what the wildlife books say about birds that suddenly find themselves indoors. “Turn out the light,” I told Dave. We were left in darkness except for a swath of sunlight that shone weakly through the dirt-streaked window. Dave opened the window, and in less than 30 seconds the wren had flown out and landed in a tree, fluffing its feathers as though trying to shake off the whole experience.

The books were right. If a bird gets in your house, make the room as dark as possible, and open either a window or door. The bird will seek the light.

It’s advice I’ve given to people who call the wildlife rehab hotline. Still, it’s gratifying to see that it works.

Friday, April 10, 2009



A Sure Sign of Spring

“Do you take bunnies?” the caller asked.
“Well, uh, I could take them for the night but I’m ready to go to work soon,” I said, hoping my excuse sounded convincing.
“So will you take them?”
“Ah, yeah, sure.”

That was the first call I’ve taken since I got my state permit in December to care for native wildlife. I had volunteered for six years at a wildlife rehab center – long enough to learn that eastern cottontails don’t do well in rehab. When I got my permit, I imagined I would keep animals for a day or two before turning them over to rehabbers who have more room to set up cages. For some reason, I always imagined I would start off with gray squirrels or opossums, not bunnies which are apt to die just from the stress of being near humans.

The caller was a volunteer for Wildlife Rehab Inc. in Winston-Salem, which operates a hotline for humans who have found injured and orphaned animals. The bunnies were found on Randleman Road by a HVAC repairman. He was cleaning an air conditioner when he took a step back and was startled by the squealing of frightened bunnies. Because he had sprayed chemicals near the nest, he thought it best to remove them.

That was a week ago. After feeding them the first two days, I decided it wasn’t so bad, that just maybe I could do this. They’re still in my guest room, snug in a Rubbermaid container lined with timothy hay. I feed them formula twice a day; the rest of the time they nibble on baby greens and clover. They weighed 55 grams (2 ounces) when I got them. They’re now around 70 grams. I hope I’ll be able to release them soon. I’m looking forward to taking them out on a warm spring afternoon and releasing them back into the wild. They’ll scamper off into the tall grass without a backward glance. That’s how it should be.