My St. Patty's day thus far
So, I'm driving home from bumming around town during the day. It's pleasant outside, I'm feeling groovy, and thinking about picking up a St. Pauli's Girl on the way home. As I'm cruising along, I pass by this hawk, who just looks at me as I drive by 4 feet away. I think, "hmm, that's odd...wonder why she's just standing there...unless she's injured? Should I...yeah, I'd better go back and check." I turn around, park the car, walk over...she starts HOPPING away, with an occasional desultory flap. So yeah, something's definitely up. I give my brother a call, ask if he's at home (no), ask if he's got any blankets or boxes or anything (no), ask when he's going to be home (at this point he pulls up next to my car, examines the situation, says he's on call and has to run home, oh yeah, and my sister-in-law and nieces pull up 2 minutes after that, so little family reunion down alongside a country road."
Anyway, the hawk hops through a fence and into a freshly-mowed field. So, the sun's going down, and I realize that if I'm gonna save this bird, I gotta act soon. I drive home, frantically pile in sheets, a mobile dog kennel, and thick gloves, ask dale (sister-in-law's dad) to come along and help. So, we drive down at sunset, scan the fields frantically as I try and remember the right spot. Dale spots the hawk before too long, I hurriedly put gloves on, get a sheet out, and scramble over the fence. The actual catching wasn't as hard as I anticipated...the hawk reared up, spanned out, and kept leaning back as dale got closer until finally she toppled over backwards, dale grabbed her by the feet and back, and we loaded her into the dog kennel. She didn't look too good...she didn't roll back over, and kept panting with a glazed look.
Then Brett (my brother) showed back up. We got ready to leave, and...where's my keys? Ummm...awww crap. I searched the truck, searched around the truck, searched the blankets, we did spirals around the field...no luck. So...we have to ditch the vehicle, and take Brett's car home with the bird. We get home...and the bird's back up on her feet, glaring hateful, hateful daggers at us...just as any proper hawk should be!!!
So...the next three hours are a flurry of phone calls: looking for someone in K. Falls or Redding who knows how to properly rehabilitate hawks, looking for a spare key at my folk's house in redding, looking for a locksmith, looking for a tow company, waiting and waiting and waiting for the tow truck to show up. So finally I get the truck towed back home, the hawk covered up for the night, and all phone calls outta the way. Then I post this message. Oh yeah, and my jeans now have a huge honkin' tear in them from climbing over barbwire fence.
Cheers!!!
Anyway, the hawk hops through a fence and into a freshly-mowed field. So, the sun's going down, and I realize that if I'm gonna save this bird, I gotta act soon. I drive home, frantically pile in sheets, a mobile dog kennel, and thick gloves, ask dale (sister-in-law's dad) to come along and help. So, we drive down at sunset, scan the fields frantically as I try and remember the right spot. Dale spots the hawk before too long, I hurriedly put gloves on, get a sheet out, and scramble over the fence. The actual catching wasn't as hard as I anticipated...the hawk reared up, spanned out, and kept leaning back as dale got closer until finally she toppled over backwards, dale grabbed her by the feet and back, and we loaded her into the dog kennel. She didn't look too good...she didn't roll back over, and kept panting with a glazed look.
Then Brett (my brother) showed back up. We got ready to leave, and...where's my keys? Ummm...awww crap. I searched the truck, searched around the truck, searched the blankets, we did spirals around the field...no luck. So...we have to ditch the vehicle, and take Brett's car home with the bird. We get home...and the bird's back up on her feet, glaring hateful, hateful daggers at us...just as any proper hawk should be!!!
So...the next three hours are a flurry of phone calls: looking for someone in K. Falls or Redding who knows how to properly rehabilitate hawks, looking for a spare key at my folk's house in redding, looking for a locksmith, looking for a tow company, waiting and waiting and waiting for the tow truck to show up. So finally I get the truck towed back home, the hawk covered up for the night, and all phone calls outta the way. Then I post this message. Oh yeah, and my jeans now have a huge honkin' tear in them from climbing over barbwire fence.
Cheers!!!