Celebrating My Birthday with a Few Hoo Friends

Vileness Metasux Fats

3 min read

A crappy day weather-wise produced an unusual opportunity for me. Couldn’t work at Christ in the Wilderness, so I opted to spend a few hours volunteering at Hoo Haven Wildlife Sanctuary. This also happens to be my birthday; and I honestly can say that I could not have picked a better way to celebrate it.

After meeting the volunteer coordinator, an animated woman by the name of Gloria, I greeted my fellow volunteers for the day, most of whom were fairly new to the place. The only veteran amongst the crew was a retired fellow by the name of Don, whom I’d met last Thursday during the tour I took with members of my Master Naturalist class. Super nice guy. He and I hit it off right away. He’s been the primary caretaker of a hawk that I helped get there about two weeks ago. He’s doing much better, thanks to Don and the rest of the staff’s efforts.

Don and I spent our time this morning cleaning the kitchen area and taking brief breaks to interact with the animals. My first task was to clean up Broccoli and Scooby’s pen. The former is a white pelican, about a year old, and the latter is a domestic rabbit, age unknown. They get along well, best I as I can tell and from what the other volunteers claim. Fish guts, old fruit and veggies, plus poop made up the bulk of the mess. I used a broom, a mop, scrub brush, very hot water with suds and baking soda, along with rags, to do the best job I could to get Broc and Scoob’s place looking and smelling a lot tidier. Broc did her best to nip me with that fearsome looking bill of hers while she played with her food; Scooby pretty much ignored me, apparently used to the routine. Took a good hour but the joint looked so much better when I finished.

Next up I emptied and then refilled the little swimming pool a snapping turtle resided in, which sat in another pen adjacent to the one I’d just cleaned. Getting the snapper out of the pool went easier than I thought it would: just picked him up by the tail and set him on the floor, out of the way. Lots of old food had sullied the water pretty horribly, and I felt bad for the poor turtle having to have laid in it for a few days. I’m going to make his care a priority when I’m there up until the day he’s released.

After the turtle pool, I helped get the rest of the floor swept and mopped. Gave a few neglected areas a much-needed scrubbing with suds and vinegar, including spots behind the kestrel cage and beneath the main food prep area. The kestrels are gorgeous little falcons, common to the Midwest. The pair at Hoo are in bad shape. One had such a horrible eye infection that it can no longer see; the other has a very mangled leg and foot. I spent quite a bit of time keeping watch over them, reflecting the fact that kestrels are by far my favorite raptor. When I lived in Chicago, I’d spend hours monitoring their behavior at two cemeteries near my home, which included the hunting of dragonflies, a formidable species of insect prey that is a predator itself. Excellent fliers, the “dragons of the air” seemed to give the kestrels fits as they turned on a dime and zoomed straight up and out of harm’s way.

I also had a chance to spend time with owls, robins, sparrows, squirrels, hawks, a goose, a crow, a starling (another favorite), a couple of pigeons, a mourning dove and a turkey vulture, which Don says has quite the beak on her. All in all, a great way to spend a few hours. Learned a few things and I hope I lent some good to the proceedings as well. Can’t wait for next time!

Hoo Haven

Wildlife Rescue

Volunteering

Birthday

61 and Counting: A Morning of Acting One's Age

61 and Counting

Sixty-One and Counting

A Morning of Acting One’s Age·

Our little corner of the Driftless received some rain last night. Finally. It’s been over a month. Not much, mind you. Half-inch, if we’re lucky. But as we say here, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve been hauling water out every morning to keep bowls and reservoirs full and clean for the various critters that share space with me here. Nothing too exotic, especially this time of the year. Nope. Just our resident house sparrows that stick around all year, along with other native avians with the temerity to brave this bioregion’s winters. Not that they’re much of anything anymore either. Warmer. Fewer “big snow events.” Ice storms seem to be more common than I remember. And aren’t welcome. Because, unlike much of Illinois’ topography, it’s hilly here, with some very steep grades on even the major highways that wind through these parts. Ice-Age glaciers that carved and flattened much of the rest of the Midwest bypassed us here, leaving us drift-less: little of the typical-for-the-area stone deposits and other debris can be found. So, the land has some rather unique qualities to it; and with me being outdoors a lot, I’ve done my share of exploring them, mostly on two wheels and two feet.

Driftless Bioregion

I was up at seven again, rousted by the cooing sounds of the two pigeons that I share my home with. My other two housemates are a common grackle and a ring-necked dove, both of whom are fosters for a local wildlife rehabber. Neither is releasable due to injuries.

I fell asleep watching “Pulp Fiction.” It’s funny how I can stay up all night reading a book but I often feel myself dosing off ten minutes into a movie, regardless of quality. And I have come to love “Pulp Fiction.”

But first thing first. After a sip of coffee and a bite of the veggie omelette that I’d hurriedly made, I was ready for release of the opossum caught overnight in the live-trap in the front yard. I’d set it for the capture and relocation of feral cats that have been terrorizing my resident bird population. So far, I got me one ornery white tomcat, a raccoon, and now the possum. The three toads I’d “rescued” last week from planters in Scales Mound, the two mice caught in live-traps indoors and my new prisoner were quietly released where I normally do. All were in fine physical shape and quickly left me to live the balance of their lives where God had intended.

Ya see…I’m literally the guy “who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

After providing food and water for my housemates, I threw a cassette into the stereo to provide some company while I cleaned. This proved to be the “B” side of a Minutemen/Big Boys tape that I recorded off of the vinyl probably thirty years ago. The sound quality has diminished a bit but still plays just fine. “Bob Dylan Plays Propaganda Songs” indeed….

Following some spotty house-cleaning, my glamorous life continued. Outside again. Only this time to provide food and water to the wildlife that hangs around my house in the front and back yards. This time of the year, house sparrows are in the greatest abundance of any critter. A few squirrels are regulars. Starlings, too. I heard a few robins and saw a pair of grackles earlier. But it’s mostly the sparrows that snatch up the bulk of the birdseed.

Along with birdseed, I also leave out small bowls that I fill with grape jam and sometimes scrambled eggs, if I have extra. The jam attracts any straggling ants, yellow jackets and/or bees. The eggs are eaten by any creature fortunate enough to find them. Suet is hung primarily for the feeding of woodpeckers but many other birds partake. Along with a few raccoons. Might be ones that I’ve rehabbed an released. Along with working a “corporate” gig at a local convenience store as a clerk, I volunteer with a local wildlife rehabilitation center, for which I transport, rescue and care for injured and orphaned wildlife. Like these:

I’ve been at this rescue thing for over a decade but my love for animals extends back to probably when I was born. My mom used to love telling the story of when I cried and cried over how she was killing the ants that had invited themselves to share a bowl of ice cream with me. I was only two-years old then. “And the writing was on the wall."