9
The LORD is a shelter for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.
PSALM 9:9
Rehabbing wild birds is a tricky business. There are magnificent moments of success, offset by moments of equally stunning failure (hi, George). The feathered ones themselves are a tricky combination of fierce and fragile. They come with this fierce determination to fly free, offset by this weird fatalism that can cause them to die shockingly quickly of capture myopathy—the stress of confinement and/or being handled by humans. They don’t want to be touched by a big, scary monster in human form, no matter how well-intentioned the monster is, and they don’t do well with pain. I am a lot like that myself, so I sympathize.
I know you probably don’t think you’re all that scary, but to a wild bird you and I are the stuff of nightmares! Not that I have the chance to become very many birds’ worst nightmare. Between federal rules and regulations and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA), the kind of birds I can rehab is limited. The laws are a good thing that I don’t object to. I just have to mind my p’s and q’s, or the regulations can become a nightmare. Birds of almost every kind are highly protected, except for non-native, nonmigratory species like European starlings, house sparrows, and feral pigeons (hi, George). Anyone is free to become involved with those birds. But the rest of the feathered population is strictly hands-off unless you obtain a federal permit to have those birds in your possession.
Obtaining such a federal permit is not for the faint of heart. I won’t go into all that is involved, but look it up sometime. I admire wholeheartedly the bird rehabilitators who succeed, and I’m glad to have some of them within driving distance of my place, which means all these federally protected birds that need help have somewhere legal to go. That’s a very good thing for me, and for them.
I don’t fly in the face of any regulations on purpose, of course. I wouldn’t dream of taking in a fierce raptor or a member of a waterfowl species, all of which require highly specialized care. And your average songbird is also hands-off, thanks to the MBTA. Every once in a while, however, something flies in under the radar…
The Blue Beggar
Enter Jay-Jay. Some kindhearted people wholly oblivious to the strict songbird regulations had found this sorry blue jay pre-feathers and post-falling out of his nest. Then they couldn’t find either nest or parent to return him to, so they raised him themselves on who knows what.
I have to say that despite the issues involved, they did a fine job of it. Baby birds need an exacting diet to develop properly. The vast majority of the time when someone tries to raise one and doesn’t know the ins and outs of how to do it, the nestling either dies or grows up sadly deformed. Not Jay-Jay! Somehow these finders did things mostly right, and he grew into the most stunning and energetic blue jay fledgling I’d ever seen.
Jay-Jay’s rescuers had no idea what to do with a fledgling that was no longer content to cuddle inside a little nest, and they certainly didn’t want to let him go in their neighborhood full of cats. So I got the call—this in the days before we had any federally permitted bird rehabbers nearby. He couldn’t be released so young in a yard full of cats, so I told them to bring him to the Lion’s Den and I’d take a look at him.
Jay-Jay arrived at my place in fine feather. His every move showed off a color palette of gorgeous blues, and in the way of blue jays he was both appealing and demanding at the same time. Jays sometimes get a bad rap for being the bullies of the bird world, and I can understand why. But nobody can argue with the sheer beauty and personality they put on display! While I almost hesitate to admit this in public, they’ve been at the top of my favorite bird list for a long time. There was no way I could resist Jay-Jay. As a rehabber I couldn’t responsibly leave him in these people’s possession, and I certainly couldn’t send him back to Catville, so I took him on.
Jay-Jay at intake
My plan was to see what I could do about getting him into a rehabber’s hands somewhere (hours away) who had the proper permits, and I would have made the effort. But as it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. He had grown to the point where he was too big, strong, and restless to be confined to a cage, so I let him go in the cedar trees next to our ancient barn/garage where the Ringtail Gang had lived. It’s the perfect spot for fledglings or for birds that just need a little feeding and recovery time from minor mishaps. We feed wild birds out there every day, and the barking of our dogs in our fenced yard keeps area cats far away. The dogs are so used to our chickens that they don’t bother wild birds either, and a predator on the hunt has to really want a bird badly to face off with those two crazy canines.
Since Jay-Jay was no longer in a cage at our place, he was no longer technically in anyone’s possession. Technically, therefore, no songbird regulations were being violated. That didn’t stop him from possessing us! As a fledgling he needed frequent feedings from his “parents,” and he let us know that he expected us to step up and fit the bill. Or fill the bill, if you want to get technical about it—his bill, a lot, and often.1
Which we did for weeks and weeks, the whole thing exacerbated by the fact that, true to form, Michael couldn’t resist building Jay-Jay a perch of his own on the nearest cedar tree. As you can imagine, Pigeon George was not about to share his private condo with a noisy, rambunctious little interloper that probably reminded him too much of himself at that age.
Jay-Jay loved his new perch and immediately claimed it as his feeding station. We kept a bowl of fledgling-tempting foods like fruit and seeds on it at all times, out of which he could easily have fed himself. Yet he much preferred that we step out of the house and feed him whenever he called. Which we did a lot because he called a lot. If we weren’t home to feed him, he would go to our neighbor across the way and beg for a feeding there, which also happened a lot (good thing our neighbor was a willing jay-sitter).
We didn’t mind Jay-Jay and his antics, although he and George had such similar personalities that the two of them at once could be a bit overwhelming. If Jay-Jay didn’t call for a feeding at regular intervals, one or the other of us would step outside and call him. His response was to wing his way in at full screech and check out whatever treats we had in hand—unless he was over at the neighbor’s. Then I would go retrieve him yet again with abject apologies.
A real bonus was that our resident wild blue jays were usually in and around our bird feeders all day, and Jay-Jay could watch them closely and interact with them. He learned about being a blue jay in the wild by watching blue jays in the wild, all while being fed by us and protected by our dogs. He had the best of both worlds.
Eventually he grew almost as wild as his wild blue mentors, and he needed us less and less. Soon he started winging his way off on his own more often. But to this day, whenever a raucous blue jay swoops into the yard, lands unusually close, tilts its head in that blue jay way, and vocalizes loudly in my direction, I’m pretty sure it’s Jay-Jay. In fact, I think he was here just yesterday.
Forget My Feather Fetish!
You may wonder why the rules are so strict about having anything to do with songbirds, even the common ones. I wondered that myself, so I looked into it. It’s our own fault for having a feather fetish. The Migratory Bird Treaty Act I mentioned was enacted more than a hundred years ago, in 1918, because back then people were killing too many birds so they could use the feathers to manufacture things such as fashionably feathered hats. Numerous species were soon facing extinction because of this out-of-control fetish for bird fashion, so something had to be done.
The MBTA was the result. This law has been updated a little since 1918, but not very much. It is so complex that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has a special website, called the Feather Atlas, to help you and me determine whether a feather we see on the ground is legal to pick up and take home or not.2
Most of the time, it is not. That’s the level of protection birds now enjoy. I am not talking eagle feathers, either, which many people know require a permit to possess. I am talking about almost any feather! There are some bird exceptions (hi, George), but for the most part, we had better not collect feathers beyond those of our own chickens. I’ll quote you a short section of the MBTA:
It shall be unlawful at any time, by any means or in any manner, to pursue, hunt, take, capture, kill, attempt to take, capture, or kill, possess, offer for sale, sell, offer to barter, barter, offer to purchase, purchase, deliver for shipment, ship, export, import… transport… carry or cause to be carried, or receive… any migratory bird, any part [including feathers], nest, or egg of any such bird, or any product… composed in whole or part, of any such bird or any part, nest, or egg thereof… any person, association, partnership, or corporation who shall violate any provisions of said conventions or of this subchapter… shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor and upon conviction thereof shall be fined not more than $15,000 or be imprisoned not more than six months, or both.3
Check out those last few lines again. Serious stuff! You can be tried, convicted, fined thousands of dollars and imprisoned for months for badgering a migratory bird, much less for possessing any part of it. I realize that feathers are beautiful and remarkable, and when you find them in nature you can study them and take pictures, but it is almost always illegal to take them home. Thankfully, the online Feather Atlas puts the MBTA regulations in somewhat simpler language:
The possession of feathers and other parts of native North American birds without a permit is prohibited by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA). This protects wild birds by preventing their killing by collectors and the commercial trade in their feathers, and extends to all feathers, regardless of how they were obtained. There is no exemption for molted feathers or those taken from road – or window-killed birds.4
Feathers have always been one of my favorite things, but since finding out more about the MBTA, I have reined in my feather fetish. Nowadays, I might look at a blue jay feather under my bird feeder or a sea gull feather on the beach, and I might even run a finger along it to feel its beauty firsthand. But then I do the lawful thing and leave it where it lies.
Likewise, I stick to the birds and mammals my rehabilitator license allows. I’m glad birds are so well protected. It has made a huge difference in the number of birds we have left to enjoy. Yet at first it also made rehabbing more of a challenge because for so long I didn’t have any bona fide bird rehabbers nearby. I did, however, have birds nearby that kept flying in under the radar…
The Early Birds
Enter the “Early Birds.” A huge number of red-breasted robins, Michigan’s state bird, had migrated back to the Mitten State too early one spring and had then found themselves in deep trouble because of deep snow. Red-breasted robins are heralded all over Michigan as the first sign of spring, but this time their timing was off! Blown around by a mid-April blizzard, these early robins started falling to the ground in droves. And people all over our county started calling me, upset at finding robins dead or dying in their yards.
These good-hearted robin lovers were desperate to rescue the weak, starving birds that hadn’t already died. Yet people could not be expected to take the risk of transporting birds from our locality to a properly licensed rehab facility hours away during whiteout weather conditions. I couldn’t take the risk either. Part of the expressway leading to the proper rehab location was closed due to the weather warnings, so travel was simply out of the question.
I had to do something, however, so under the 48-hour Good Samaritan clause I took in whatever weakened robins people called me about. Meaning I could have the birds in my possession for a short period of time, provided I was making every reasonable effort to place them into licensed care. With the wild weather there was no way to make such a reasonable effort, so I housed them locally in the Lion’s Den.
I got some heat lamps going to ward off the cold, and I provided the birds with good food and rest. My hope was that by the time the storm had passed, the robins would be sufficiently recovered to be releasable right in my yard. Otherwise, I would have to make plans to transport them to properly licensed rehab care after the storm.
To stem the tide of birds flying in under the radar, I also quickly posted online that people could feed the struggling robins in their yards—options that were more affordable than expensive earthworms from the corner gas station. Raisins, Craisins, and berries atop the snow all appeal to hunger-crazed robins, and even shredded cheese that can look like worms to them. Lots of enthusiastic responses came back, so I know people were doing their best to help these Early Birds live through the storm.
On a happy note, the robins that people braved nearly impassable local roads to bring me, perked up just fine after being fed and warmed in the safety of the Lion’s Den. I released all of them (and all of their feathers with them, in deference to the law) as soon as the snow passed, which it did quickly—Michigan weather being so capricious. The released robins happily flew the coop (or the Den, rather) much stronger than when they arrived, and I got to watch them merrily pulling worms out of the ground just a few days after I thought they were goners for sure!
Bird in a Box?
Before we fly away on another animal tale, I should mention why you may one day have a bird in a box on your hands. If you are acting as a Good Samaritan, as I did with the Early Birds, you won’t need a permit to pick up a songbird in distress. Yes, you should plan to take it to a rehabber as soon as possible, if needed. But it isn’t always needed. People come upon downed birds all the time; you have probably done so yourself. Some of those poor creatures just need to become a “bird in a box” briefly, and then be set free.
Bird in a box? you wonder. Let me explain. Songbirds sometimes inadvertently bang into things like windows as they fly around, or things like cars bang into them. Sometimes it’s a glancing blow and the bird soon recovers. Other times, the downed bird needs somewhere dark and quiet to catch its breath and shake it off. It needs to be a bird in a box.
If you come across a stunned songbird on the ground, and it doesn’t have any obvious injuries, put a cardboard box over it and give it anywhere from half an hour to a couple of hours to recover. Glance at it briefly every half hour, and when it seems alert and lively again, lift off the box and let it go. You have probably just saved its life!
Not to mention that you helped the bird stay in familiar territory, which is best for it, and you saved yourself a trip. If you had put the temporarily stunned bird inside a box and had driven it to a rehabber immediately, it may have surprised you both and flown away as soon as the box was opened. Birds recover fairly quickly from glancing blows.
If your bird in a box hasn’t recovered in the span of a few hours, it will need to go into rehab. Collisions and window strikes can be very injurious for our feathered friends. It’s not just that they bonk their heads on a window, see stars for a little while, and then recover like some critter out of a cartoon. If only it were that amusing.
In reality, the windows of our houses and businesses are a huge issue for birds. Windows are often positioned in such a way that they reflect the outdoor sky and scenery back to an airborne bird. Even with its bird’s-eye view, a bird cannot always tell there is a window directly ahead and may bang right into it.
The Delicate Dove
Enter the prettiest ring-necked dove (aka Eurasian collared dove) I have ever seen. Its golden-brown feathers and soft-looking eyes were positively mesmerizing.
When the call came in, the finders sounded so sad: “We have a beautiful dove on our hands, and we don’t know what to do with it. From inside our house, we heard it strike a window with a big bang. We ran out and found it lying motionless on the ground, so we put it in a box to give it a breather. It has been several hours, and it hasn’t recovered at all!”
“Bring it over,” I said, “and I’ll examine it.” (Again, this was before we had a federally permitted bird rehabber near enough to intervene.) They brought the little beauty to the Lion’s Den as soon as we hung up, hopeful to the point of tears that I could do something for it.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I assured them when they arrived, “but I’m so sorry to say that the prognosis for such a severe window strike is really poor. You did everything right, giving this dove a dark, quiet place to rest after it took the hit and then bringing it in for more help as soon as you saw it was necessary. There’s nothing more you could have done! But I’m not sure there’s anything more I can do either. We’ll see what transpires.”
I don’t like telling sad stories, but window strikes are a huge part of the difficult side of rehabbing. What transpired with the beautiful but unfortunate dove was that it passed on. Almost as soon as I saw it, I knew it would. It had apparently broken its back in the crash and was paralyzed. It had no movement in its lower half whatsoever, and no movement came back over time. I had to call the finders the next day and report that there had been no recovery for their soft little bird in a box.
Birds are so strong but so delicate, so fierce but so fragile. They seriously injure themselves because they are winging along as happy as larks and don’t recognize the danger reflected in that clear, shiny glass. Then they hit a window at breakneck speed—literally. If these hard strikes survive at all, they either die by inches in the wild, or some poor rehabber takes pity on them and helps them wing their way more quickly into the great beyond. (That’s mighty difficult too!) Lighter strikes, however, can and often do recover after a brief time-out as a bird in a box.
A Word of Warning
I should give one word of warning: You don’t want to pop any old bird in a box, especially the bigger birds. It’s worth noting that acting as a Good Samaritan for some kinds of birds can cause undue human pain and suffering if you are unwise about it. Even little songbirds have beak and claw enough, as I can tell you from painful experience (hi, George). They will defend themselves when they’re not too busy dying of fright, so it pays to be careful.
Be aware, as well, that non-songbirds like raptors and waterfowl are in a category all their own when it comes to self-defense. There are herons with strength enough behind their long beaks to skewer a skull. Loons, as classy as they look, will aim for an opponent’s (or rescuer’s) eyes when frightened, and they excel at hitting their target. Any rehabbers I’ve seen handling these species are suited up in protective eyewear and other such gear.
Then there are the raptors, in yet another class all their own. Eagles, owls, hawks, and other birds of prey can inflict pain with beak and talon that you haven’t even dreamed of, with hundreds of pounds of pressure behind every nip and grip. I know of an injured owl that sunk its talons through someone in multiple spots, and that’s not an isolated incident. Expert bird rehabbers can handle those big, fluffy raptors with consummate skill, but it’s a skill people surely better have down pat if they decide to mix it up with birds of that feather. The rule I live by is don’t attempt to put those kinds of birds in a box. Call for well-trained help instead!
Warding Off Window Strikes
Back to the songbirds for a moment. Having window strikes happen around your place is painful for both the bird and its finders. In the United States alone, it’s estimated that between 100 million and 1 billion birds a year die from window strikes, depending on where you get your statistics. Either number, and every number in between, is horrendous.
Did you know, however, that something can be done to those bird-attracting windows to let birds know when it’s time to veer away? I keep decals, stickers, or painted hearts from the grandkids on my windows to ward off the birds in flight and help keep them alive to sing and fly another day.
We can all help increase the songbird population by doing such simple, inexpensive things about this one issue. Google “bird window strikes” online and you’ll find all kinds of additional solutions. You’ll then have more songbirds around to watch and enjoy because simple efforts like that pay off big in preserving these winged wonders!
1To watch “Jay-Jay,” a video of me working hard to get Jay-Jay to feed himself, visit my website at www.trishann.com and click on the “Raccoon Gangs Book” tab at the top. Scroll down to the book videos, and you’ll find Jay-Jay there.
2For more information from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s Feather Atlas, visit https://www.fws.gov/lab/featheratlas/.
3To read the MBTA in more detail, you can visit this website and also obtain a copy if desired: https://www.fws.gov/le/USStatutes/MBTA.pdf. The quote comes from the U.S. Codes 703 and 707 sections.
4“Feathers and the Law,” The Feather Atlas, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, last modified February 28, 2020, https://www.fws.gov/lab/featheratlas/feathers-and-the-law.php. The Feather Atlas home page also provides links to interesting information on a wealth of bird-related topics, including how to identify feathers via multiple scanned images. Visit https://www.fws.gov/lab/featheratlas/.