Documenti di Didattica
Documenti di Professioni
Documenti di Cultura
ID: 4300931
Publication Date: February 2, 2009
Day: Monday
Page: A1
Edition: SECOND
Section: National
Type: Local
Dateline:
Column:
Length: medium
Forced from his home by a lack of food, the hawk flew south in search of
a warm meal: a vole, a mouse, or perhaps a decaying carcass, such as the
possum it found in December in a Center Valley corn field.
But dangers greater than the raptor's natural predators lurk in his winter
home. And when a local falconer found the bird stranded in the field,
unable to fly, a second journey began -- one of medical mystery,
rehabilitation, and Sunday, renewed freedom.
"This was the most difficult raptor I've ever had," said Katherine Uhler,
the bird's caretaker, standing in a Williams Township field just before the
animal's release. "I just hope he makes it all right."
"I was out hiking in the corn field, and a flash caught my eye," Neitz said.
"At first I thought it was a red-tail, but when I looked closer, I was like,
"Hey, you're not a red-tail at all."'
Neitz recognized the brown wings and white tail feathers of the young
rough-legged. The hawk looked healthy, but didn't fly away when Neitz
approached. Instead, he hopped a few feet before rolling on his back and
sticking his legs in the air.
Exactly what plagued the hawk was a mystery. After x-rays and a careful
examination at the Wright Veterinary Medical Center in Bethlehem
Township, staff members cleared him of any physical injuries.
From there, the hawk traveled north to Pocono Wildlife Rehabilitation and
Education Center, tucked in the wooded forest of Cherry Valley in
Hamilton Township. Caretakers diagnosed the raptor with a mild case of
rat poisoning -- a best guess more than anything else.
"It's like forensics," said Uhler, director of the center, caring for her first
rough-legged hawk. "You look around for clues to see what's going on in
the area that might keep the bird from flying."
So began the hawk's treatment, similar to one for the human flu: a
flushing of his system, lots of fluids, a little food and some rest.
The raptor responded well, regaining strength a week later. Uhler said he
flew around his pen and ate plenty for a bird his size. But on the eve of his
planned release on Jan. 2, new symptoms appeared: the hawk left his meal
untouched and favored one leg as he flew about his cage.
"Birds can't talk," Uhler said. "So after 30 years of experience, a lot of this
is intuition and feeling. It's hard to explain where this injury came from."
Without the use of one leg, the hawk had no way to eat. So twice each day
for three weeks, caretakers caught the bird without hurting him more, held
him down and hand-fed him mice.
"That was very stressful on bird and human," Uhler said with a sigh.
But the routine worked. Last week, the hungry hawk began eating on his
own, downing four or five frozen hamsters a day. With his leg healed and
all symptoms gone, Uhler trucked him to the Koch Farm in Williams
Township, a rural community with plenty of open space for him to stretch
his wings.
"I want you to go back to the Arctic, OK?" she said to the bird Sunday,
grasping his talons and holding him close to her chest. With her parting
words, she thrust the hawk skyward, and after a few slow flaps of his
wings, he took to the chilly morning air and settled in a nearby black
walnut tree.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Uhler said, dropping to her knees in the snow as tears
came to her eyes. "This has been such a bad-luck bird. But he looks good.
He looks good."
christopher.baxter@mcall.com
610-559-2101
NORTHERN VISITOR