Hawk Talk

It was supposed to be a quick, impromptu trip to Atlanta to visit the grand kids through the front window.  Just drive there and back with plenty of time to enjoy the rest of the day.  When the Englishman slowed to turn into the driveway on the busy road, we noticed a hawk sitting on the sidewalk.  The Englishman parked and walked slowly toward the beautiful bird of prey.  The hawk began to hop along the sidewalk and it was clear that it had a broken wing.

Undeterred, the Englishman returned to the Jeep and retrieved a moving blanket and the cargo net.  Carefully circling the hawk from behind, the Englishman remained on the street side and the hawk hopped along until it was two doors down in the thick ivy of an old oak tree.  Our activity was being monitored by one curious grandson from the window and the residents of the property which the hawk had chosen as an escape route.  The Englishman threw the cargo net over the hawk and then added the blanket. I was sent back to retrieve a large box from the Englishboy #1.  When I returned, we carefully maneuvered the bird into the box and kept all of our fingers, too.

So we had a hawk in a box but no clue what to do next.  I turned to Google and searched for hawk rescue in the area.   I learned that in order to rescue a bird, you captured it and brought it directly to the facility.  The facility did not come to you.  But all the Atlanta rescue groups seemed to be at capacity and were not accepting any birds. The woman from two doors down approached with a solution:  she had a list of all of the groups in the area that you could call about wildlife rescue.  She sent the list via text message to my phone.  I started making calls.  When I called Hawk Talk there was a prerecorded message.  At the end of the message, a cell phone number was listed.  I sent a text to that number and shortly received a response with the name and phone number of a local vet that would assess the hawk.

We called the vet's office to let them know we were coming.  The GPS showed a 12 mile drive and we arrived 45 minutes "Atlanta Time" later.  A couple of techs carried the hawk in the box inside and we waited for  diagnosis.  The hawk had a broken wing and it looked to be a re-break.  It was a good candidate for rehabilitation and they would take care of him.  We made a donation for his care and decided to head home.

On the way home, I sent two text messages:  One to the woman who shared her list and one to the woman from Hawk Talk.  I was glad that we were able, yet again, to help out another fine feathered friend.

Toys on the Side

As the dogs aged, they seemed to become disinterested in their toys.  Abby was the only dog that still pulled plush animals from the toy box and surrounded herself with the treasures on her dog bed.  That is, until the Englishman realized that Charlie still enjoyed toys.  He just was too short to reach them and he wasn't up to jumping into the box like he used to do.  

For now, the box is on its side and the house is once again littered with toys of all sorts: the kind that give me a heart attack each time I accidentally step on the squeaker, the kind that hurt when I'm not wearing shoes and the kind that make me smile when I realize that an old dog can still find joy in childish things.