Homesteading Triage, Baby Owl Edition

I was drinking my morning coffee, talking to my mom and going through last night’s Instagram messages from my oldest stepson. Say what you want about social media, for all of its ills and numerous shortcomings it is good for staying in touch. Especially with grown kids now on a college sleep schedule. Among the morning offerings was a video of a great horned owl that had gotten into a coop being set free, after a glaring contest with the farmer. We reminisced about the owl that had gotten into our coop many years ago and killed a bunch of our chickens. 

Ah, homesteading childhood memories/traumas.

With coffee done, I set out for morning chores. Imagine my surprise when I came to one of the coops and saw a young barred owl hanging from the bird netting I had strung across the outside area. This bird netting was a new and temporary addition to the “outhouse coop” because my wonderful turkey was having beef with my rooster and needed to hang out with the meat birds for a while. 

Since she is a royal palm turkey, she can easily fly out of the 8 foot fence. Often perching on the top of the door making turkey noises at the dogs who were doing their best to pretend that if she would just come into the yard they would ABSOLUTELY NOT molest her in any way. Out of fear for this combination of events I strung bird netting across the top of the run since my turkey seemed more and more determined to see if the dogs were as trustworthy as they purported to be. 

(They are not. They are in fact- lying liar faces)

Hence the need for a physical barrier.

I was lucky that the chickens and turkey were all still inside the outhouse. This amazing creature was probably after a mouse in the yard. The net is black and even with an owl’s night vision, next to invisible. He hung there, exhausted from what I’m sure was the worst night of his life. (I will be referring to the owl as male, though this is unconfirmed. Males barred owls tend to be smaller than females, but confirmation requires blood work.) 

Assessing the situation quickly. I ran back to the house to get a box, and scissors. My daughter was engrossed in her pancakes and morning entertainment and luckily didn’t question what I was doing. I returned to the coop, and started talking to the poor distressed critter. I said I was so sorry it was stuck. I was going to try and help, but I would much prefer not to be bit in the bargain. I worked as fast as I could, assessing his mood and cooing to him not to flail or things would get worse. As with most of the wild animals I had had the fortune to help, he seemed to understand that I was not a threat and might actually be his only way out of this predicament. 

I cut him down from the net and placed him on my lap. One of the talons was hardly affected at all. After a few snips it was freed entirely. His right foot was a different matter. A hard knot of black webbing cut into it’s flesh above and below the middle digit. This beautiful creature laid sideways on my lap as I carefully cut away the mass of netting. 

His feathers were divinely soft and I was grateful that he had acquiesced to the procedure as I quickly realized I could not use work gloves to detangle fine strings from finer feathers.

He was netted across his back as well, but luckily there were only a few strings there and around his wings resulting in no damage to any other part of his body. His right foot was bad though. 

Initially I hoped to cut him down, let him recover in the quiet solitude of the box until dusk and he could go on his merry way, but that would not be the case. As I came through the door with a box I remained unquestioned by the small child, which I also thought best for the situation as I carried the owl filled box to my mom’s side of the house. 

“I got an owl” I said in a hushed tone to my mom. 

“Where?” she replied unfazed. This was not the first wild beast I had brought to her, more of a life long trend really. 

“In this box.” 

“Of course it is.” 

I explained the situation and that I would like some help applying salve to his wounds and evaluating the damage more thoroughly. The owl was much more alert at this point but still very cooperative.

She handed me q-tips slathered with a wound salve I make every year. It has infused oil with all manner of healing herbs from the property, honey and stabilized with bee’s wax. I knew it would be safe for him.

Though the damage to the under pads was substantial I was still hoping that he could skip the trauma of confinement and human rehabilitation. As I worked my way through the fine dense feathers on the top of his digit stomach dropped, the top of his middle talon was degloved to the tendon. 

Fuck.

I apologized profusely to the maimed being, knowing his life was going to be different for a while. I set the box outside and messaged the oldest telling him since his reels appear to have the power of manifestation- next time to send videos of ravens who befriend people and follow them around doing their bidding. He asked if I thought it was one of the owlets from this spring. I thought it was very possible. Barred owls have a home range of 5-10 miles, they mate for life and do tend to use the same nests over and over. 

Last spring we had a mated pair show up on the land.

After weeks of hearing them calling nightly we started to hear a different noise during the day every time we opened the front door. It almost sounded like a rusty door hinge.

After a week or two we were able to find a hollow tree right outside the front door that appeared to have two little fluffy owlets in it! Which apparently make a squealing noise when unwanted humans appear.

I was heart broken as we got in the car headed for The Center for Wildlife, in Cape Neddick. I was not “rescuing” a wild creature, I had caused harm to a wild creature. I had been focused on my domesticated animals’ needs and the choices I made changed the life of a native being forever. This injury was mine to own, however unintentional I had created an unsafe environment.

I do my best to own my faults and anytime I am in charge of a system the harm that situation causes to the people in it, is my responsibility. Acknowledgment, apology and reparations are always in order. In my past life as a chef and department director, I lived by the motto that any success was owed to, and owned by, the team as a whole. Any shortcoming or failure under my watch regardless of my physical presents, was mine alone. That is what it means to me to be in a position of responsibility. I am accountable to the land we steward for my impact on it, and the creatures who predated us on this patch of earth.

The intake at the center was easy. We were stymied in our quest to see some of the other raptors at the center. They follow a strict protocol when it comes to avian flu and since we had close exposure to a wild bird that day, we couldn’t take our potentially infected selves around the other fragile birds being treated. I appreciated this level of care and we were given free vouchers for a future visit. I received a case number to check up on the patient and we turned around and headed back toward the woods.

The first update a couple weeks later didn’t help me feel better. It was a nest of roses and thorns. His wounds were healing, but still not healed. He had gained weight, but also started pulling out his feathers as a result of the stress of captivity. I tried to quell my guilt with the fact that had I just let him go with a bum foot, it is doubtful he would be able to hunt effectively enough to gain weight.

Still, I felt shit about it.

The next update a few weeks on was much better. He had healed and was ready for release! In fact, I could come and get him the next day if I was able.

I was.

Everyone in the family joked that the center had no idea who they were giving a boxed owl to. Trusting I was just going to set him free when I had a perfectly serviceable aviary available on the property. I did the right thing though. I brought him home and we released him back within yards of his original home, at dusk.

It was a wonderful feeling. Not of some good deed done, but of the reparation of a wrong I owned.

This is atonement.

The world today feels out of control. Harm being perpetrated left and right without ownership, justified with a shrug. We are told that ‘everything is fine’ in a situation obviously spiraling out of control. The damage being done now at warp speed will not repair easily, or at all. Irreparable harm is being done in the name of profit and callowness, taking more than is owed or earned at the expense of fragile systems and vulnerable populations.

I have always felt it is human beings’ natural place to foster systems of abundance that benefit the whole. It is a position we have not occupied for most of modern existence. Our Windego side has been running the show to too long. Most days I am overwhelmed with the need to create positive change in this system I have been born into, and am at an utter loss for how to get it done.

The owl was a reminder of what it looks like to take responsibility for the damage I caused, without preamble or excuse. Freely accepting blame for suffering caused is surprisingly freeing. Negative feelings can be avoided or embraced. Neither reaction changes the outward harm caused, but accepting responsibility is the only way to open the door to any meaningful remuneration. It does not matter if the harm was intentional, so often we can not predict the impact even small things have on the system as a whole. The alchemy of life is mysterious and we do not direct its force or flow. All we can do is to be clear about the truth of our actions and the effect it has on those around us.

A much wiser woman than me once courageously wrote:

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

― Maya Angelou

I think that says it all.

Be well. Be good to yourself, and others.

P.S. the net was taken down 🙂 the turkey is back with in the main coop. The beef between her and the rooster goes on.