Somewhere in the pools of Beaver Creek, large rainbow trout lazily watched the currents for a tasty snack. Perhaps they hid by the pilings under the bridge or under the mossy root ball overhanging the water’s edge. Perhaps their tails twitched.
Somewhere above them sat a little screech owl, a rufous-phase Eastern Screech-Owl, to be exact. But Mr. Owl wasn’t looking for trout. They could keep tending to their own business. He was looking for something to fill his belly.
Before him was a wide-open space. He could see for a long distance—both this way and that. Surely a mouse or a shrew or a weasel would scurry past if he watched long enough….
Suddenly, there it was, stirring in the grasses—he could really see it well in the light of the moon. Silently he leaned forward and left his perch, big eyes locked on his prize. Like a bat chasing a moth, he whipped around in a tight circle and dove straight for the prey.
Kerwhomp! My car whacked into Buster before he could figure out why the moon was so bright.
I pulled off to the side of the road and took a look. No, Buster wasn’t stuck in my grill. We turned around and went back.
There was Buster, lying on his back, his tail blowing in the wind. We thought he was dead, but maybe he was moving…maybe it wasn’t just the wind.
I knelt down beside him. He was moving! As for the wind, well, it got knocked out of him. I found a box in the car, and we slipped Buster inside and headed for home a few miles up the road. As we traveled, I placed a call to the Wildlife Center of Virginia and waited for the digital secretary to tell me how to reach a vet at 9:30 on a Sunday night. Would they see him? When?
“Keep him warm in a box in a dark location, and bring him in tomorrow after 9:00,” were the instructions I received.
Buster sat on our porch and looked at us with his big yellow eyes, at least if we moved or squeaked. But he appeared drowsy too. I could imagine he had a headache. Was he drowsy from a head injury? Was his brain swelling? We couldn’t know.
It was cold. Winds were predicted to blow twenty miles per hour during the night. Buster wasn’t in any hurry to leave our porch. We would bring him inside.
Into a bigger box went Buster. I carried him to a garage where no predators would find him. Would he still be alive in the morning?
Early the next day, I shone a light into the box and peered in. There, inside the black box, was Buster, and he was peering out.
Soon Bethany and I headed back down the road to turn him loose where he was hit. He flew a few yards and landed on the grass. After taking photos, I wanted to move him farther from the road. I eased toward him slowly. His big eyes took in every move. And then he lifted off. Across the stream he went and landed on a rock at the base of a tree by the water. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones, but neither was he a strong flier.
As I was eating breakfast, the wildlife hospital texted and asked if the owl was coming in. I told them what we had done and sent them photos. Then came their reply that they wished to see him no matter how he appeared this morning, as long as he was still alive. They wanted to x-ray him for internal injuries and to give him anti-inflammatory medication.
The gentleman had told me to bring him in; I was just too quick to assume that meant if he was obviously injured.
So, back to the stream we went. This time it was Adrian who assisted me, and he had a net. We soon located the owl.
It was easy to get the net over the owl. However, at one point the owl did manage to get out of the net. Even so, it landed on the ground in front of Adrian, and he was able to easily get the net over the owl again. We soon had the bird in a box. We called the hospital and told them we would be bringing him in after all.
“Is this the owl?” the receptionist asked as we walked through the door.
After filling out the paperwork, we were given a certificate identifying our owl. He was patient #26-226, and the first patient of the day. Buster was soon whisked away to be evaluated by the medical team. We would be able to check on his status by calling and using the patient number we were given.
As we turned to leave, patient #26-227 came through the door. This time it was an American Woodcock. He was peering out the end of a dog carrier, no doubt wondering what this was all about.
As I write this, Buster is being cared for in the indoor portion of the hospital. The medical team confirmed there were no broken bones. He does have eye trauma. His right eye has a tear in the retina, and he has a hemorrhage in the left eye. Also, he has bruising around the neck. He has been given fluids, anti-inflammatory medication, eyedrops, and pain medication, and is being monitored to see if neurological issues develop.
No, that is not a long tongue. Buster is intubated to maintain an open airway while he is sedated, allowing veterinarians to perform a thorough exam and check for any injuries.
In time, assuming he continues to heal, he will be moved to an outdoor enclosure where he can get acclimated to living outdoors again. As he gains strength, he will transition to a flight pen. Once he is able to fly strongly and hunt on his own, we will be called to pick him up and release him back into the wild where we found him. Hopefully his mate (which may have been the owl we saw a quarter mile up the stream) will still be around, and they will find each other.
As for those lazy ol’ trout—they still hide out in the crevices of Beaver Creek, totally oblivious to all the drama that goes on above them.
As for Buster, we hope he has learned to turn around and watch the field the next time and keep his back to the road.
The Wildlife Center of Virginia sees about 4300 animals per year. The Eastern Screech-Owl is the most common owl brought in. Last year they saw sixty, averaging more than one per week. In the winter (this occurred February 22), owls and raptors commonly watch roadways for prey, as food is scarce, and roadways provide a lot of visibility.
This hospital has thirty-five staff members, plus several hundred volunteers. Many are trained to care for and transport all kinds of wild animals—hummingbirds to black bears, snapping turtles to snapping snakes.
In 1982, Ed Clark, Dr. Stuart Porter, Terry Porter, and Nancy Sheffield founded this hospital for wildlife. Back then I went to a presentation by Mr. Clark, where he laid out his vision for this hospital. He said something I have never forgotten, and I have been quoting him ever since. When he showed a photograph of an opossum during his presentation, he said he asked his partner what he could say about an opossum—“How would you describe them?”
His partner quickly responded, “That is easy. They are one-half inch thick and all over the road.”
His last slide was a beautiful sky with magenta-colored clouds. “Is this a sunrise or is this a sunset?” Mr. Clark asked, then answered the question with, “We don’t know.”
That was a creative way to transition from his nature presentation to the question whether his vision for the wildlife hospital will take off or will die.
That was back in the ‘80s, and his vision at the time was a sunrise. What started in a barn was soon moved to a new facility in Weyers Cave, Virginia. Ten years later they moved again, this time to a state-of-the-art facility near Waynesboro, Virginia.
The facility is tucked into a forest that is home to all kinds of wildlife, including bears. So, when the wildlife in rehab are in outdoor pens, the environment is where they feel right at home. Great care is taken to keep the wild animals wild.
