At the Toronto Wildlife Centre – Page 3

Handling firsts

Loons up close are gorgeous. We know their distinct call, as it carries in the air over lake water. But we don’t all know what they look like up close. (I didn’t.)

Elegant black head and neck, with a white and black necklace at the throat. A body of deep black feathers with white dots. And not as large as I would have thought – more like the size of a duck. But their beak is sharp and accurate, so the staff members treating her wear clear protective eye shields.

As with securing the talons of an owl or hawk, ensuring that the beak of a loon doesn’t injure the staff person is the key to how it is handled.

This one was in ICU, and needed hydration fluids and tube-feeding. In this case, a staff member retrieved the loon from its enclosure, and I was able to help hold it while it was being treated and fed.

We then moved it to a different room down the hall where it has a large pool to swim in, with a floating raft it can step onto if it wants to, and live minnows to catch and eat. As soon as she was released into her pool she dove for the minnows.

How do you pick up a large adult snapping turtle?

Carefully – LOL. One of the adult snapping turtles at TWC right now has a piece of her carapace broken away, exposing the flesh underneath. But she seems to be healing well. And tonight when she needed to be given an injection of antibiotics, I retrieved her from her pool and held her for the staff person.

So, how exactly do you retrieve a snapping turtle from a pool, and pick it up to move it? Well, first of all, you know you are going to get wet. (Though not as wet as catching an aquatic bird from a pool using a bedsheet.)

In this case, using your non-dominant hand, you gently hold the base of the tail where it meets the shell. This part of the turtle is as thick a my wrist. Then with your dominant, stronger, hand, reach underneath from behind and lift her up from below. This way, she is facing away from you, and her strong beak can’t reach back to bite you. She is heavy!

Then to secure her and ensure no one gets bitten when she is being treated, her face goes into a turtle-specific plunger (see my earlier post here), where she will hiss. The treatment was done in an instant – it took longer to retrieve her and place her gently back in her pool!

Red Squirrel babies are smaller and squirmier …

Red Squirrel babies are smaller and squirmier than eastern grey squirrels. Somehow they seem more curious, less escape artist.

I fed red squirrel babies for the first time (my first time, not theirs!) this week. In the last few months, I’ve fed many eastern grey squirrel babies, but these were my first baby red squirrels. They are about the size of an adult chipmunk now, with pretty auburn fur and cute little tufts at the tips of their ears.

Apparently they are sometimes called a chickaree (though chickaree seems to be mostly used for west coast Douglas Squirrels) or Hudsons Bay Squirrel thanks to John James Audubon. And there are 25 subspecies of red squirrel alone.

I was definitely not thinking about subspecies as I was trying to feed these little ones – three female and one male – formula through a 1 cc syringe with small nipple at the end. Each of these babies are orphans and have other issues they are recovering from.

When I go to reach into their enclosure to bring each one out to feed, they are all curled up together in a hammock made from a small fuzzy blanket, and they don’t protest or try to get away. But they get super active and, well, squirrely, once they wake up a bit and have been fed.

It’s important to cover their eyes (with soft pillowcase fabric) so they don’t imprint on humans and can be returned to the wild – but it’s still possible and necessary to watch their tiny little heads and mouths as they are fed. Although squirmy and feisty they all ate well, 5-8 ml of formula. When they get into it, they use their front paws to hold the syringe they are eating from. So sweet.

Image: ©Joel Sartore/National Geographic Photo Ark

Bitten by birds!

Bitten! First thing on my TWC shift this week. Before I dropped off my coat and bag, I was invited into ICU to help with a duck. As I was holding it while the intern was getting ready to provide a fluids injection and tube feeding, it nipped me – twice! Apparently it bites hard and the bites hurt. My hand must have gotten out of the way in time because it just nipped me.

Not long later, I was in the songbird room to feed fruit flies to the warblers and kinglets, then clean two enclosures and weigh the birds and put them back in their clean enclosures with fresh linens, branches, food, and water.

The first was an enclosure for a rose-breasted grosbeak – who bit me with her strong triangular beak, as I held her briefly. Fair enough, I said to her. I don’t blame you – I’d probably do the same thing!

The next bird was a yellow-bellied sapsucker. A beautiful woodpecker with red, black and white head. This one didn’t bite me – it has a broken top beak.

Woodpecker patients are housed in a different kind of enclosure that is more secure for the bird but a bit harder to clean. I gently took out the yellow-bellied sapsucker to weigh it and clean its enclosure. When ready — all clean and with some maple syrup, fresh berries, mealworms, suet, and water – the sapsucker was returned. It went straight back of its enclosure to hide behind a thick piece of bark. Exactly where it was when we started.

Image: ©Joel Sartore/National Geographic Photo Ark

Turtle wipes her face as she eats

One of the painted turtle’s enclosures was very low on water. This turtle has been there a while and has a half-moon chunk of bone missing from the back of her carapace. She is usually the most active of all the turtles in care, often climbing the incline of her large bin. And making noticeable thumping sounds as she does.

I checked the chart and “normal setup” was indicated, which meant there should be more water than there currently was in her enclosure. And upon checking her chart, I realized that she was also due for a full cleaning and feeding. So I got to it.

I moved her to a smaller plastic critter carrier and covered it with a pillowcase to reduce her stress. Drained the last of the water from her bin, moved all of the rocks and washed them and the gravel, washed the inside walls and bottom of the bin. Replaced everything, and as the bin was filling I went and got her meal for the day: 4 mealworms, 2 earthworms cut in half (I always feel badly and apologize to the earthworms), 3 commercially-made turtle pellets, and a large pinch of very fine tiny lettuce pieces.

So once the bin was refilled with temperature-correct water, and the food was added, and floating or swimming in her water, I returned the turtle to her hospital home.

She was hungry! First thing she did was go after the earthworms. As I watched, she used each of her front feet to wipe her mouth.

It took me a minute to realize that as she was taking a mouthful of earthworm, she was swiping the remaining worm – the part wiggling outside of her mouth – off! In effect, cutting off the parts outside her mouth so she could swallow what she had more easily. She would then eat the pieces she had swiped off a moment earlier.

She used feet on both sides – sometimes swiping with her left, the next bite it might be her right. Very effective of course. Like wiping her mouth after each big bite!

Image: ©Joel Sartore/National Geographic Photo Ark

Autumn is baby season again

I am happy to be in the nursery again – tonight I fed four squirrel babies through syringes with nipples, and they all ate like champs! Every one of them put their tiny little front paws on the syringe and didn’t want to let go with their mouth or feet when I had to remove the nipple to refill the syringe.

Each of them ate about 12ml of Esbilac, which is 4 syringes full. Most of these babies would normally be fed a special formula but the TWC was out of formula, so all of the squirrel and chipmunk babies were getting puppy Esbilac. They loved it!

When I was first learning to feed baby squirrels in April and May, a baby grey squirrel kicked my ass. He was squirmy and bitey and got his little claws into my hands. (No blood, just scrapes from his clingy antics.) The little guy’s tiny heart was racing and he was shivering with fright as I tried to feed him. And he pooped constantly – tiny little yellow-brown balls of fear. Little feisty acrobat.

But back to this evening: I also held two babies for fluid injections to hydrate them. Many of the patients of all species are dehydrated and require fluids this way.

I also held warm tiny chipmunk babies. First time I’ve held a chipmunk at all, and the three I held were tiny little babies about the side of my thumb. One, the newest arrival who came today, still hasn’t opened its eyes yet. They are fed four times per day currently, alongside baby squirrels who are being fed two to four times per day, depending on their size and age.

At the end of the night I fed a little brindle girl squirrel who was so sleepy she had a hard time eating. She would eat from the tip of the syringe with the nipple on it, then fall asleep. I put the nipple of the syringe more fully into her mouth and she didn’t fuss but some of the formula just dripped out – she was sleeping instead of swallowing.

It is important for them to be fed, even if they are sleepy – like all babies – so I kept trying. She didn’t take as much as she eats in the daytime, but she managed to get 12ccs of formula (about 4 syringes worth) before being put back into her enclosure for the night.

Right now the squirrels are so young, it’s not difficult reach into their large wire enclosure, open the shoebox, and find the correct squirrel to be fed, from among the pile of mostly sleeping babies all curled put together.

Its also time for turtle babies!

Today I checked on two tiny baby painted turtles that had just been born (hatched) earlier that day! They were alert and active, and swimming and hiding. Their little carapaces are just smaller than a loonie, with red colouring all around the outer edge, and their tiny little baby heads coloured with bright yellow patterns. In an adjacent enclosure, there’s also a tiny baby snapping turtle who was born 5 days ago. More to come, as the eggs in the incubators start to hatch!

Mink Sang to Me

The little black mink sang to me! Ok, she chirped at me. I was doing PM checks and went to check on her. She was resting in one of her hides, and she came out and right up as close to me as possible, hanging on to the top of her enclosure wires. And starting talking / singing / chirping. Loudly!

She has a very distinctive voice, so an hour or two later when another volunteer was in her enclosure to feed her, I could hear her sing from across the other side of the building. Of course, I went to see why she was calling out, and to ensure she was ok – and that’s how I found out she was singing to him, too. Apparently she chirps whenever people get close to her.

She is the first mink I’d ever seen. The first time I saw her, a few weeks ago, was when I was doing my PM checks. She was in an enclosure in a walk-in space, in the small mammal room where the cottontail bunnies are kept. When I went in to check on her, she came out of her hide box and over to the other side of her enclosure where I was, and climbed up the wire mesh, so we were face to face. She was quiet then. Her fur is a deep shiny black, and her face is almost feline, like a miniature black panther. Super alert black eyes.

She is not a patient, though. She was cornered and kidnapped by a guy who thought she was an escaped pet ferret. I can see why people mistake a mink for a ferret – their body shape is similar. They belong to the same overall scientific classification family, along with weasels, otter, and marten, but are a totally different animal. Mink are all still wild. And they are semi-aquatic – they eat fish and other creatures like crayfish, as well as small animals and birds. They can be seen in various places in Toronto, such as Toronto Islands and Tommy Thompson Park.

So the guy who caught her got bit in the process. Of course. Not realizing he was cornering a terrified a wild animal, not someone’s pet. And then, because the mink had bitten someone, she had to be in quarantine for a set period of time before she could be released and returned to her real home. That is why she has been at the TWC long enough for me to hear her sing.

A tiny black and yellow head looks out from between my fingers

A tiny little black and yellow head looks sideways at me from between my index and middle fingers.

This impossibly light and fragile little Canada warbler is hanging on to my fingers with all her might, her necklace of black feathers against her yellow breast are hidden below my fingers. She is an excellent patient though – relatively calm and when droplets of medication were placed on her beak she swallowed it right away. Even opened her beak when a droplet was ready for her.

Its unfathomable how this tiny beautiful creature can fly all the way to south America for the winter, and back all the way to Canada again next summer. She is smaller than a golf ball!

A house sparrow outsmarted me.

I’m sure it was terrified at first, then when it realized how much quicker it is than I am, it was probably laughing as it dodged me in its enclosure. Cheeky thing even landed on the rim of my net just to make a point. Then it escaped its enclosure.

The staff person who was there with me caught it on the floor of the room. In another room an hour later, I was able to catch a different sparrow using a net, and transfer it to hold in my hand for treatment. It was then placed in a brown paper bag to be weighed and to wait as I cleaned its enclosure.

When its space was clean and food and water was replenished, I released it from the bag and back into its enclosure. Carefully.

Slapped by a pigeon! Twice!

This pigeon clearly did not want to be handled. It wing-slapped me – twice – as I went in to capture and hold it gently for meds and tube feeding. You may think it was just coincidence.

Sure, pigeons flap and try to get away when someone is too close for comfort. But this was clearly deliberate. This pigeon was not panicked, it looked at my hands coming toward it, and it slapped by hand down with its left wing. And when I tried again, with perfect aim and clarity – it slapped my hand again.

I had to laugh and give it credit. And then of course I gently captured it, held it up for the intern to give it medication and food, and then I returned it to its enclosure.

Pigeons are definitely underappreciated, highly intelligent birds. (More on that in a future post.) One of the interns told me she was a not a fan of pigeons before working at TWC, and now they are her favourite bird.

They are sweet tempered, smart, and their plumage is beautiful. I held 6 pigeons this evening, to be given medication or tube-fed. I reach into their enclosures, cover them with a pillowcase, and gently bring them out into the room. I often have to do the first part one-handed as I am holding the top of the enclosure open. It is heart wrenching when they cry out and try to hide in a corner. So scared.

As I hold them, sometimes they shake with fear. Literally vibrate. Their head is gently covered with the pillowcase to reduce their stress, but I can feel their little heart racing. I try to give them part of my hand or a finger to hold on to with their feet. Holding on, as if perched on my hand, seems to make all kinds of birds feel a little more secure.

Pigeons are considered to be one of the most intelligent birds on the planet, able to undertake tasks previously thought that only humans and primates could do. They are of course well-known for their ‘homing’ superpowers and their history of carrying messages over long distances to accurate destinations. It’s also been shown that pigeons can also recognize their reflection in a mirror, and can be trained to recognize all 26 letters of the English language. In scientific tests, pigeons have been able to not only differentiate between photographs, but even differentiate between two different human beings in a photograph.

All of our feral city pigeons, a.k.a. rock pigeons, are descendants of domesticated rock doves.

How do you keep a snapping turtle from biting you?

How do you keep a snapping turtle from biting you? With a face-plunger of course.

I have held painted turtles before and its not difficult. Hold them gently and firmly on either side of their bodies, letting their legs and head be free. But a snapping turtle is another thing altogether.

They are large and they are strong. And they have a painful bite. Their bite cannot take your finger off or snap a broom handle, despite the myths, but it would hurt. Their beaks are made to cut their meals. Sharp and powerful.

So to pick up a snapping turtle to move it, one hand is at the base of the tail, where the tail meets the body, and the other hand is slipped underneath the carapace – from behind, with the turtle facing away from you.

And when you have a turtle that needs an injection of antibiotics, it works very well to gently but firmly place the face of the turtle in a clean animal-use-only toilet plunger. (Not a sink plunger. Sink plungers are often red, with an umbrella-like bell. Toilet plungers are often black and have the wide bell and a narrower tube-like part that is at the bottom underneath the bell.)

Once the turtle’s strong beak and head is in the plunger, it can’t see and it can’t bite. But it can breathe just fine, and there is space between its head and the plunger. Clearly, this is just for a minute or two, and does not hurt the turtle. And this way, the people around it remain unharmed too.

Great horned owl is aptly named

Tonight I was able to hold a great horned owl to be given medication. I was warned that it is like catching and holding a red tailed hawk, but owls are stronger. Thank goodness a little calmer, too. This one hissed at me as I opened it’s enclosure. All fluffed up to be scary, it is extraordinary. Beautiful. And the eyes. Oh my goodness, the eyes. They are round and bulgy like a muppet, with bright, bright yellow iris and black pupils, and eyelashes. And a creamy-opaque membrane that blinks over them.

So when the owl is looking at you with the huge beautiful eyes, it’s hard to remember that it’s terrified and trying to scare you away! But those talons are a reminder that it’s a predator. Strong large claws, larger than the hawks I’ve held. The owl has shorter thighs, where I hold it from, its back against my chest, so it is a little easier to ensure that the claws are firmly held downward so they don’t injure the staff person giving the medication. The front of my shirt was covered in tiny owl down for the rest of the night!