Friends think it’s strange when I open the back of my little white truck and there are orange traffic cones piled high. “What are these for?” they ask, as if it were a pile of Kevlar jackets. I take orange traffic cones with me because I pick up injured animals off the side of the road. One of my fellow volunteers at the SPCA was killed while trying to save a dog on a highway; I really don’t want that to happen to me or the animal.
I confess my failures first. On Northwest Highway in front of the big Half Price Bookstore, a chihuahua ran around aimlessly, shivering, in traffic moving way too fast, unaware of the little dog’s panic. Stuck in the middle of that intersection, there was no where for the dog to go. Clearly, other people wanted to help, too, but we were all at a loss. It couldn’t be saved without serious risk to oneself and other drivers. I tried to keep my eye on it, and perhaps stop my truck in the middle of the intersection in hopes of stopping traffic in both directions for a few seconds. But when I got to be the first one stopped at the light, I could no longer see the dog. No evidence at all. I can only assume someone else stopped at the light was able to coax the wee thing into their own car.
On one of my first rescues, I was too quick to pick up the seemingly injured bird. It was on a small residential street, so time really wasn’t a pressing issue. What I didn’t know was that sometimes birds are just stunned. I noted the bird’s mate sitting nearby, and I scooped up the apparently injured bird in my rescue towel, setting it gently on my passenger seat. Half way down the highway to the bird rehab center, it  suddenly awakened, first nosing out from the towel, then flying crazily around in the car. That was one angry bird. When it got to the point that the bird was heading for that space under the dashboard where small animals can easily go to the engine, I knew I had to stop the car and let it out before the engine fan shredded it. I felt terrible. Not only did the bird not need any help, but I had inadvertently relocated it away from its family and nest. Sigh.
Next, a blind baby bird after a storm, a poisoned blue jay, a pigeon with a broken leg. Those went better. I rehabbed the pigeon myself, and eventually let her loose back in her local flock. The blind baby and the blue jay I took to Rogers Wildlife and Bird Rehab Center in Hutchins, just south of downtown Dallas. This was going to be a learning experience!
As I drove up the gravelly road to their center, the free-roaming peacocks turned their backs to me and shot up their green, purple, blue, red tail feathers at me.I guess they don’t get many visitors. I carried my feathered patient up the creaky wooden steps into the office/intake center. The first thing I saw was a large white duck quaking along with its wing in a sling. Office greeter. They also had drawers and drawers of infant birds learning the feeding response from each other. Creamed corn was the menu today for the baby birds. The caretakers handled each with the flair of an expert. I love this place.
They now have sky-high fly cages for the injured Hawks, owls, and other birds of prey, while blue herons, chickens, ducks, peacocks, and others roam the area freely.
My friend Merry recently found an injured bird just learning to fly. At this age, be careful! Mom and dad are usually nearby and will dive bomb you! Leave them be. Alas, this little one was alone. First, we gave it time. Let’s do the grocery shopping, and then we’ll be back. After an hour or so, he was still in distress. The good news is, for once, I had someone else to do the sneaking, crawling, climbing and falling all ass over elbows to save the bird behind the fence of a locked community. We had a good trip to Rogers Wildlife, and I think Merry learned what an honor it can be to help animals.
Doesn’t it say somewhere that God hears even the smallest sparrow fall from the tree?
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