Snippets From Sam

It was a sunny, balmy, breezy day, just perfect for a walk with an owl. I was a volunteer for Boyd Hill Nature Preserve with the bird of prey program. I headed down to get Phantom, the barred owl I have been working with for the past 6-8 months. I was teaching her to perch on the glove so we can start using her in our educational programs. She had only been getting on the glove for about 6 weeks. This type of training takes a long time and much patience.

When I first started with her I just stood on the ladder holding the glove in front of her for several minutes each day so she could get acquainted with it and not be frightened when the time finally came for her to actually get on it. So far patience had been paying off and she was coming along very well. The first day I actually hooked up her jesses and pulled her onto the glove she was not happy and bated off the glove. Being a glove novice she did not know what to do to get herself back up onto the glove. I had to get my free hand underneath her and gently push her body back up onto the glove and hope that she would grasp it with her feet. She did not. Once again I pushed her back up to the glove telling her that it is not dignified to be hanging upside down from a long strap attached to her legs. She didn’t care about dignity. The lesson for that day was over because once the bird is stressed I could not accomplish anything by forcing her to continue.

Many sessions later perseverance finally paid off and she eventually got the idea that it was really OK to be standing on a glove. We did not go anywhere, just stood in the cage while she felt the glove, jesses and strap. I whispered to her the whole time to calm her. By this time she had also learned how to get herself back up on the glove when she bated. What a feeling of joy I had the first time I actually took her out of her aviary. We only walked down the trail for about 50 feet but it was a giant step for her to be out of her security zone. Finally, on this day we were going to take our first long walk. Things were great. She watched me as I talked to her; she looked down at my feet hearing my footsteps whishing through the grass. I would elevate her on the glove up into the air above my head so she could feel the sun on her body and have the breeze ruffle her beautiful feathers. I sang to her softly. She blinked slowly at me with her wonderful dark eyes. She was actually enjoying this walk. After about 30-45 minutes I headed back to the aviary by way of the back parking lot. As we were heading down the trail a car pulled into the lot. Phantom tensed and I tried to distract her from bating but it was too late. She just bombed off the glove and was hanging upside down and frantically flapping her wings. Because she only has one wing and the shoulder of the other wing, all this accomplished was for her to spin in circles. She was very effectively twisting the jesses and strap around her feet so when I tried to get her back on the glove it was like her feet were tied together and she could not get a grip. I was trying to untangle her but she was flapping so madly it was impossible to untangle her.

In the meantime the person driving the car came over to see if she could help. She is a new volunteer but had never handled a bird before so there was nothing she really could do at that point. After a few frantic moments I just put my arm around the owl and pulled her upright against my chest. That was when we noticed she was dripping blood. Quick inspection revealed that she had broken a blood feather on her amputated wing. If the bleeding is not stopped quickly, the bird can exsanguinate in a short period of time. The only way to accomplish this is to pull out the blood feather with needle nose pliers. This is not something I normally carry around with me and besides it is a two-person procedure, one to hold the bird still and the other to pull the feather out. All I could think of was to pinch off the feather to keep the blood from flowing so freely. This I did while I carried her back to the aviary. Now the bird is clinging to my chest with her talons, which are the most dangerous part of her body, but she never even broke the skin. She just blinked up at me as though waiting for me to make everything OK.

When I got her to the outside workbench I was able to untangle the jesses and strap. I tried to get her to sit on a perch but she instead jumped back to the glove. All the while I am pinching off that blood feather and trying to put some styptic on it as a temporary measure to stop the bleeding. The styptic did not work; the blood was just flowing out too fast. Pinching was the only thing that stopped it. By this time we both were covered with blood spatter.The novice bird volunteer tried to find the ranger in charge of the birds but she had gone home to go to her granddaughter’s graduation. The only other person who was qualified to pull the feather was our head volunteer Gabe but he was not due to come in until 5 PM. It was only 4 but Bobbie and I decided this was worth a call to him anyway. She called, I pinched.

Gabe got there in about 15 minutes. He got a towel and threw it over the bird’s head so she would not struggle when we worked on her. I held her feet just in case she decided to test out just how deep she could jab those talons into a hand while Gabe pulled out the offending blood feather. He then packed the wound with styptic after flooding it with peroxide. We watched her for about 15 minutes to make sure the styptic had done its job. Then Gabe took the bird and gently set her in the box in her aviary. We watched her for another hour and declared that the emergency was over.

The next day I went down to the park to see how she was and she was fine. She blinked, I sang “You Are My Sunshine” to her and she let me scratch her head. She got onto the glove for a short walk. What a trooper she is. I have a feeling that she will be one of those special birds like GHO (the great horned owl) who are just a dream to handle. What a blessing to be able to actually touch and love these magnificent birds.

The house is warm and comfy. The living room has a fire in the fireplace. I can hear it crackle. Grandma Mom is in the kitchen baking something that smells wonderful. I smell cinnamon so it is probably apple pie or cobbler. She loves to bake and there are several fruit trees in the yard including apple, cherry and pear along with current and raspberry bushes. Grandpa Pop is in the kitchen with her, sitting at the small table and they softly talk to each other. If it wasn’t for the refuge I find being in this house I know my childhood would pass with little joy.

The house is a two story Dutch colonial that was built by Uncle Art. I didn’t know him but Mommy and Mom say a lot of good things about him. I love this big old house. It has three bedrooms and a sewing room on the second floor. There is also a large bathroom. A door in the sewing room goes out onto a small balcony. The stairs to the attic go up from Pop’s bedroom. The attic holds all kinds of treasure that I love to go through.

My favorite is an old chest full of movie stars pictures that my Aunt Joyce and Aunt Shirley have collected over many years. There are dozens of them. Shirley is married now but Joyce still lives here. She is only six years older than me. I am ten. Sometimes Joyce lets me try on her formals. She has such pretty ones with lace and taffeta, satin and light netting. The skirts flared out and I twirl around and Joyce laughs at my antics.

On the first floor is the kitchen, a large formal dining room, the living room with a fireplace and my favorite, the sunroom. The sunroom is small but it has windows all around the outside walls. There is a piano, a rocking chair and all of Mom’s plants on plant stands around the windows. Most of them are succulents.

The house also has a basement with laundry area, a commode stall, home canned vegetable room that we call the root cellar and a huge furnace. There is a ping-pong table in the front part of the basement. There is also a storm door leading outside. The main stairs go up into the kitchen. My cousin David likes the basement but I prefer the attic. Did I mention that I love this house?

 My favorite thing in the world is to sit in the rocking chair in the sunroom during winter and watch the snowfall under the streetlight at night. There are no words to describe the peace and beauty I feel at these moments. It is like being transported to a different time and place. I just sit there alone in the dark; rocking and watching the flakes drift slowly down. Every once in a while a small gust of wind goes through and the snowflakes will swirl before kissing the ground.

Photo Credit: Flickr “G” Jewels g is for Grandma

There are times when the snow comes down so thick I can’t see the street light, only its glow through the heavy curtain of snow. At times a car or the city bus goes by and the snow eddies wildly from the disruption of its descent and then once again floats peacefully to the ground. I love this house and all the joy that fills it. This is where my most precious childhood memories lay.

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