Starry Night
By
Christina Kelly-Grubb
His downy feathers ruffled in the evening breeze. The sky glowed pink and red across the valley. Lights flickered in the distance. He loved this time of evening. His Mother had just left on her first hunting trip of the night. He knew before long she would be back with the evening’s first catch and the nights feeding would begin.
The wind gusted suddenly, urging the young owl to spread his wings. He couldn’t wait to fly off with his mother into the evening sky. He knew it would be soon.
There she was, dinner in her mouth. Sharing the catch, the two young owls quickly finished what she brought and demanded more.
He waited, clinging to the edge of that nest high in the saguaro cactus, as his mother and father both hunted and returned again and again with the nights catch. The black starry night turned to predawn light. The wind gusted again, nearly knocking him off the nest. He noticed a pounding in his ears. Blood seemed to be rushing to his head. Another gust of wind sent him tumbling over the side. Falling head over heels against the cactus he hit the ground. He lay there stunned, his vision blurred. He lost consciousness. Some time later he began to stir. The pain of cactus spines in his back and under one wing were excruciating. He knew that something terrible had happened. Where were his parents? Weak, his heart pounding, the rushing sound in his head deafening, he pulled himself to his feet and began walking.
He found himself walking alongside the road. A car drove by and nearly blew him over. He felt dizzy. He must keep going. He walked and walked along the side of the street. Exhausted and in great pain, he stopped to rest. It had become light outside.
He could hardly move now. He noticed the woman as she slowly crossed the street.
She spoke softly to the owl.
She picked him up in her jacket and held him gently.
Carefully she carried him home where she contacted a local bird sanctuary. She put the bird into a box lined with a towel and drove to the address she had been given by the woman on the phone.
A man greeted her at the door. “Hi my name is Christy. I called about the baby owl.” They stepped into the hospital where he picked up the bird and began to check him over. He then put the baby owl into a carrier and took her information. He promised he would call and let her know how the baby owl was progressing as soon as his wife had a chance to examine him.
The baby owl had become totally weakened and was barely conscious. Hardly breathing, he looked into the eyes of the woman as she gently checked him over, looking for signs of life and symptoms of what may have happened to this young great horned owl.
Blood ran from the “bloodfeathers” underneath his wings. A sign of internal hemorrhaging. Once the effects of poison have gotten this far there is no hope. She shook her head sadly knowing this little one would not make it. She whispered a prayer for him. He died in her hands. A tear slid down her cheek. . .
She called Christy that evening to tell her the little owl did not make it and that rat poisoning was the probable cause of his death. Christy grieved for the demise of the little bird. He had hemorrhaged to death as a result of the blood thinners that make up the rat poison. She thought back to the conversation she had with the pest control man she’d met in her back yard a week earlier. He had been loading rat traps with “rat cakes”. The residents had been complaining and he was called out to remedy the problem. The Mother Owl had likely caught one of the poisoned rats and fed it to her babies. She was sick to her stomach, realizing that the other baby was in jeopardy from the same consequence. She posted warnings about the rat poison and what had happened to the first baby. A week later while walking Christy found the second baby, dead, on the ground underneath the tall cactus. She took it to the bird sanctuary, back to the same lady she had met before. It too showed signs of poisoning, bleeding through the blood feathers.
It seemed a nightmare. It was a wake up call for the woman as she began to understand what was happening to these beautiful birds all over the valley. These incredible birds and other wildlife in the neighborhood were paying with their lives for the senseless destruction of their habitats and food source through the thoughtless actions of the pest control companies and the ignorance of the residents.
It was 6:30 Sunday morning when her cell phone rang. Her friend was on the line begging her to come quickly. There was a baby owl at her patio door and he was just sitting there looking in at her as if he wanted to come in. Christy jumped out of bed horrified that it was happening again. Was another baby owl poisoned? She grabbed a cardboard box and a towel. There he was at the patio door. He scooted across the patio trying to hide in the bushes. She threw a towel over him and lifted him into the box. The lady at the Bird Sanctuary assured her she would do her best to help this little guy and would call as soon as there was any news.
2 days later she received a call from the sanctuary letting her know the baby owl had survived and was doing well. No signs of poisoning. He had probably fallen out of his nest and injured his wings. They named him “Grubby”. The lady explained the fact that owls were territorial and this baby was probably from a different area that had not been loaded with rat poison. Grateful he had survived, Christy began to volunteer on Thursday nights to help feed the birds at the sanctuary so that she could stay in touch with “Grubby”. He made great gains and was put into an aviary with “foster parents” for the rest of his recovery. Six weeks later it was confirmed that he was 100% healed and ready to go back to his parents. Christy and her friend were ecstatic about his recovery and made plans to celebrate his return to his natural parents.
As Christy made her weekly rounds, she began to understand the passion the people at the Sanctuary had for these beautiful creatures. She learned there are many different kinds of owls right here in our own backyards and within Arizona. She learned of their misfortunes caused by humans, traffic accidents, poaching for their feathers, and being illegally shot by thoughtless citizens. The importance of rescue and preservation of these birds in Arizona began to make sense. After all, these beautiful birds and desert wildlife are the future Legacy of Arizona.
The day came to take Grubby back home. Four friends showed up to witness his release and celebrate Grubby’s “Freedom Day”. When sunset neared Christy took Grubby out of his box. She held him to her chest, her heart pounding, and walked out into the evening twilight. Standing in the street each person said heartfelt goodbye’s and wishes of long life to the young owl. Tonight would be his first flight of freedom. His parents were out there. They had listened to them calling most every night. Grubby clicked his beak and flapped his wings in anticipation, sensing something big was about to happen. He was excited by the familiar surroundings. The openness of the street and the night air called to his instincts.
It was time. Christy held him up high and he spread his wings eager to fly. He clicked his beak a few more times. She lowered him down to her side and then swung him high into the air and let go…
He flapped twice and sailed in silent slow motion down the street. He lifted up into the air, veered to the right, and crash landed somewhere up on the desert.
Fearing for the young owl Christy and her friends ran down the street and clambered up the rocks. In the dimming light they could see him there on the ground, staring up at them. He sat there blinking, looking back for a few moments before spreading his beautiful wings and lifting off once more.
He sailed away into the dark starry night, back to his parents, back to his natural environment.
He was home at last.
Jubilant, the friends danced and sang and celebrated his freedom well into the night.
By
Christina Kelly-Grubb
His downy feathers ruffled in the evening breeze. The sky glowed pink and red across the valley. Lights flickered in the distance. He loved this time of evening. His Mother had just left on her first hunting trip of the night. He knew before long she would be back with the evening’s first catch and the nights feeding would begin.
The wind gusted suddenly, urging the young owl to spread his wings. He couldn’t wait to fly off with his mother into the evening sky. He knew it would be soon.
There she was, dinner in her mouth. Sharing the catch, the two young owls quickly finished what she brought and demanded more.
He waited, clinging to the edge of that nest high in the saguaro cactus, as his mother and father both hunted and returned again and again with the nights catch. The black starry night turned to predawn light. The wind gusted again, nearly knocking him off the nest. He noticed a pounding in his ears. Blood seemed to be rushing to his head. Another gust of wind sent him tumbling over the side. Falling head over heels against the cactus he hit the ground. He lay there stunned, his vision blurred. He lost consciousness. Some time later he began to stir. The pain of cactus spines in his back and under one wing were excruciating. He knew that something terrible had happened. Where were his parents? Weak, his heart pounding, the rushing sound in his head deafening, he pulled himself to his feet and began walking.
He found himself walking alongside the road. A car drove by and nearly blew him over. He felt dizzy. He must keep going. He walked and walked along the side of the street. Exhausted and in great pain, he stopped to rest. It had become light outside.
He could hardly move now. He noticed the woman as she slowly crossed the street.
She spoke softly to the owl.
She picked him up in her jacket and held him gently.
Carefully she carried him home where she contacted a local bird sanctuary. She put the bird into a box lined with a towel and drove to the address she had been given by the woman on the phone.
A man greeted her at the door. “Hi my name is Christy. I called about the baby owl.” They stepped into the hospital where he picked up the bird and began to check him over. He then put the baby owl into a carrier and took her information. He promised he would call and let her know how the baby owl was progressing as soon as his wife had a chance to examine him.
The baby owl had become totally weakened and was barely conscious. Hardly breathing, he looked into the eyes of the woman as she gently checked him over, looking for signs of life and symptoms of what may have happened to this young great horned owl.
Blood ran from the “bloodfeathers” underneath his wings. A sign of internal hemorrhaging. Once the effects of poison have gotten this far there is no hope. She shook her head sadly knowing this little one would not make it. She whispered a prayer for him. He died in her hands. A tear slid down her cheek. . .
She called Christy that evening to tell her the little owl did not make it and that rat poisoning was the probable cause of his death. Christy grieved for the demise of the little bird. He had hemorrhaged to death as a result of the blood thinners that make up the rat poison. She thought back to the conversation she had with the pest control man she’d met in her back yard a week earlier. He had been loading rat traps with “rat cakes”. The residents had been complaining and he was called out to remedy the problem. The Mother Owl had likely caught one of the poisoned rats and fed it to her babies. She was sick to her stomach, realizing that the other baby was in jeopardy from the same consequence. She posted warnings about the rat poison and what had happened to the first baby. A week later while walking Christy found the second baby, dead, on the ground underneath the tall cactus. She took it to the bird sanctuary, back to the same lady she had met before. It too showed signs of poisoning, bleeding through the blood feathers.
It seemed a nightmare. It was a wake up call for the woman as she began to understand what was happening to these beautiful birds all over the valley. These incredible birds and other wildlife in the neighborhood were paying with their lives for the senseless destruction of their habitats and food source through the thoughtless actions of the pest control companies and the ignorance of the residents.
It was 6:30 Sunday morning when her cell phone rang. Her friend was on the line begging her to come quickly. There was a baby owl at her patio door and he was just sitting there looking in at her as if he wanted to come in. Christy jumped out of bed horrified that it was happening again. Was another baby owl poisoned? She grabbed a cardboard box and a towel. There he was at the patio door. He scooted across the patio trying to hide in the bushes. She threw a towel over him and lifted him into the box. The lady at the Bird Sanctuary assured her she would do her best to help this little guy and would call as soon as there was any news.
2 days later she received a call from the sanctuary letting her know the baby owl had survived and was doing well. No signs of poisoning. He had probably fallen out of his nest and injured his wings. They named him “Grubby”. The lady explained the fact that owls were territorial and this baby was probably from a different area that had not been loaded with rat poison. Grateful he had survived, Christy began to volunteer on Thursday nights to help feed the birds at the sanctuary so that she could stay in touch with “Grubby”. He made great gains and was put into an aviary with “foster parents” for the rest of his recovery. Six weeks later it was confirmed that he was 100% healed and ready to go back to his parents. Christy and her friend were ecstatic about his recovery and made plans to celebrate his return to his natural parents.
As Christy made her weekly rounds, she began to understand the passion the people at the Sanctuary had for these beautiful creatures. She learned there are many different kinds of owls right here in our own backyards and within Arizona. She learned of their misfortunes caused by humans, traffic accidents, poaching for their feathers, and being illegally shot by thoughtless citizens. The importance of rescue and preservation of these birds in Arizona began to make sense. After all, these beautiful birds and desert wildlife are the future Legacy of Arizona.
The day came to take Grubby back home. Four friends showed up to witness his release and celebrate Grubby’s “Freedom Day”. When sunset neared Christy took Grubby out of his box. She held him to her chest, her heart pounding, and walked out into the evening twilight. Standing in the street each person said heartfelt goodbye’s and wishes of long life to the young owl. Tonight would be his first flight of freedom. His parents were out there. They had listened to them calling most every night. Grubby clicked his beak and flapped his wings in anticipation, sensing something big was about to happen. He was excited by the familiar surroundings. The openness of the street and the night air called to his instincts.
It was time. Christy held him up high and he spread his wings eager to fly. He clicked his beak a few more times. She lowered him down to her side and then swung him high into the air and let go…
He flapped twice and sailed in silent slow motion down the street. He lifted up into the air, veered to the right, and crash landed somewhere up on the desert.
Fearing for the young owl Christy and her friends ran down the street and clambered up the rocks. In the dimming light they could see him there on the ground, staring up at them. He sat there blinking, looking back for a few moments before spreading his beautiful wings and lifting off once more.
He sailed away into the dark starry night, back to his parents, back to his natural environment.
He was home at last.
Jubilant, the friends danced and sang and celebrated his freedom well into the night.
