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.

A Goose on the Loose!

It was a beautiful and relatively cooler morning when I met my friend Regena at the New Moon Café in downtown Aiken for our traditional breakfast of a warm cranberry nut muffin. We were lucky enough to snag an outside table for two and chatted away, glancing every now and again at some of the other outdoor diners. Two well-behaved dogs were tethered at two different tables and were content to lay at their owners’ feet, hoping for crumbs.

Several feet away, another man sat at the table across from his companion…a large white goose with a pink satin bow adorning her neck and a frilly pink petticoat somehow attached to her under feathers. She had a delicate pink leash and was gently pecking away at the muffin in front of her. This was too much for the younger dog, which in dog-like fashion, crept and crawled over toward the goose when suddenly the goose leapt from her throne and attacked the dog. The poor animal was beaten with ferocious wings and fur was plucked from his body! The dog managed to retreat beneath the table and cowered at his owner’s feet, refusing to even look at the goose. The owner of the goose, plucked his prized possession off the sidewalk, dusted her off and placed her back on the chair. Her bow was retied and she began to peck at her muffin nonchalantly.

Regena and I left, careful to avoid the goose, and went to the farmer’s market. Later, as we drove down Laurens Street I caught a glimpse of the goose, waddling after her owner as he entered the hardware store. I smiled and wished I had taken a picture. I was sure no one would ever believe this golden egg of a tale!

The Birds and the Bees and the Flowers and the Trees

Spring had arrived. Birds flitted about the flowering trees and low lying bushes, unconcerned with the dangers lurking beneath in the form of Chase and Charlie. Chase loved all things that flew, fluttered, buzzed, and darted. He held firmly to the belief that if he barked long and loud enough at the winged creatures, they would oblige him by landing in his mouth. I am certain this belief was formed six years earlier when he caught a mockingbird in a similar manner. Charlie took a more subtle approach. He burrowed beneath a bush and lay very still. Birds would not see the small dachshund who blended in perfectly with the dirt and old leaves until it was too late. Charlie proudly stockpiled his feathered trophies for all to admire. Dogs can be just as lethal as a cat where a bird is concerned.

A favorite afternoon gathering spot for all four dogs and me was down by the pond in a shady patch of clover and wild violets. A canopy of branches and leaves was provided by a gnarly old oak tree. Very fine, soft grass carpeted the area not covered by clover and an old moldy swing, its tattered top long vanished was a perfect place to relax with a book or an occasional visit by a four-legged friend.

This was the place where you could imagine being a child again. A small, rugged door rested against the base of the tree trunk and it would be no surprise if it creaked open slowly by the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Perhaps childhood memories encouraged me to sink into the lush green ground covering to seek four-leaf clovers and I found myself gently parting patches of green. The dogs, moments before content to sit on the hillside and watch the pond or sniff around the yard doing the things that dogs do, were suddenly keenly interested in my clover activities. Four noses sniffed where my hands had been. Four mouths nibbled on clover leaves. Sixteen furry feet trampled and bruised the tender plants. Four bodies chose that moment to roll on their backs in my clover patch. Sighing, I ceased my efforts and sat back on the swing. My patch was completely flattened. Despite the damage, there was one small area untouched. Nonchalantly, I moved slowly and deliberately toward that area. Sneaking a glance at the dogs, I surveyed the area and spied one four-leaf clover. Excitedly, I stooped to pluck it before all four dogs charged and trampled that area, too.

Several days later, I returned to my clover patch and happily discovered that clovers are very resilient plants. For a brief moment I enjoyed the shady spot until the dogs discovered me and crushed my patch once again. Sighing, I lay down on the swing. A bumblebee landed very close to my face and I watched it dry its wings. Smiling, I marveled at all its bee intricacies for a few fleeting seconds before Chase pounced upon it and snatched it in his mouth chewing furiously. Horrified, I admonished Chase for his actions but it was too late.

I retreated into the house with the dogs and thought that all things flying and all things growing must be relieved by the bit of safety I just provided.

But Remember, It's a Sin To Kill A Mockingbird

It was a hot southern October day and Chase was playing in the backyard. I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes and happened to spy him through the window poking at something in the grass. As I flung open the back door, Chase continued to sniff and prod the tall grass. This was bad. I knew that there was something of interest to the dog in the weeds that had taken over my entire back yard. I gingerly made my way to my dog and pulled him back by the collar. He tried to squirm away and as I dragged him back toward the house, he began to bark and pull violently. I managed to toss him back into the house and he attacked the glass storm door trying to force his way out. I retraced my steps to a clump of weeds and pulled them aside. A mockingbird stared up at me.

My dog had caught a mockingbird. I was stunned. One of my favorite books is To Kill a Mockingbird and as much as I could remember, it wasn’t a good thing. I also held a fondness for Rime of the Ancient Mariner which again has a bird killing theme in it that is basically “don’t do it”. I was determined not to have this albatross / mockingbird hanging around my neck!

I could tell that the bird was still alive but since it wasn’t flying off, I wasn’t sure how long it would remain in its present condition. I am not a bird veterinarian and had no intention of examining the mockingbird any further. I quickly donned a bright orange pair of Home Depot work gloves and secured the bird. I glanced around the backyard and surveyed my two neighbors. The neighbor to the left was not at home so I casually dropped the bird into a bush in her back yard. I made sure that it was still alive before retreating back inside my house. I figured if the bird died, my neighbor would assume that her Jack Russell terrier did it.

October turned into November and I hadn’t seen my neighbor in a few weeks. Hay bales and rotting pumpkins still decorated a corner of her front lawn. In December I saw her a few times at the mailbox but she had not been inside the house for nearly two months. The Halloween decorations were now compost. For my Christmas letter, I mentioned the mockingbird incident and joked that the neighbor must be proud of her terrier. By February, there was a flurry of activity around the neighbor’s house. Several men and women were emptying it of all contents. A few days later I learned that my neighbor had lost her house and it had been resold at auction.

Was it my dog’s fault? I suppose I will never know. I am not a superstitious person; however I have no regrets about tossing that bird over the fence.

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe :
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.