I
got my license in 1983 primarily to help another
couple who had been rehabilitators for about nine years. Shortly after I did, they decided
to go their separate ways, and all of a sudden I was getting in injured birds, sick
raccoons, orphaned babies, and had no idea what to do for them. There was no where to turn
because few vets know anything about wildlife and most do not want to learn.
I had a
paperback book written by two women in the fifties who cared for wildlife the best they
could with the knowledge they had at the time. It became my bible.
As time went on
I became a member of the International Wildlife Rehab council and purchased literature on
every wild animal I might possibly encounter. That and a little common sense has served me
well over the years. By now, there probably is not an animal in the wild that I have not
had at least once, except the Florida Black Bear, and I hope never to get one.
I'm licensed by the
State of Florida and the U.S. Dept. of Interior, a federal license to cover the many
migratory birds I get in the winter months. Hundreds of shorebirds and wading birds
succumb to pesticide poisoning each year. Some can be saved if they're found in time and
receive an antidote for the poison, but by the time most come in, it's just too late.
Migration is extremely difficult on them because the places they have for generations,
stopped to rest and feed before continuing on are now paved over for condo parking lots.
Fish hooks and monofilament line take their toll on animals, especially on the Brown Pelican, that
have to be caught before permanent damage occurs.
There's always a
challenge, like a turtle with a cracked shell that has to be wired and glued so the shell
has time to grow together again, or the alligator that had his snout run over by a car and
had to have his jaw set. Every few days the bandage had to come off so I could feed him,
then put back on again. You've never seen a waiting room clear so fast as when I walked
into the vet's office carrying a four foot gator.
I have a wonderful vet
now, who helps me with anything beyond my capabilities, and does it free of charge.
Beyond
all the countless injuries, there are all those cute and cuddly babies...except
that when they
come, they come by the dozen! After Hurricane Floyd I had 36 baby squirrels within a day,
because the hurricane hit during squirrel nesting season. During early spring I will have
as many as twenty five baby opossums taken from their mother's pouch after they've been
killed. The babies somehow manage to survive being hit by a car or mauled by a dog,
tucked down inside the mother's pouch. It's a real experience trying to bottle feed a baby
armadillo or a baby skunk, which by the way is my very favorite. Of all the really
cute wild babies, the skunk is the cutest.
I take in over a
thousand birds and mammals each year, and even though I'm fully licensed by both the state
and federal agencies, neither consider wildlife rehabilitation worthy of funding, so the
financial burden lies with my husband and me, and any donations
from the public. I would continue to do rehab without donations because my conscience
will probably never let me quit. Once you're into it, how do you ever say no?
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