wild orphan

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A little little owl!
This juvenile little owl arrived at the centre today after being found alone. Sadly, despite significant efforts, no sign of the nest or parents could be found.
He is uninjured, but too small to go back to the wild just yet, and so we need your help!
Little owls at this age become imprinted very easily and this one needs a friend to stay with until it can be released. Do any other rescue centres have a little owl to pair up with ours? He urgently needs a friend!
Please share this far and wide; hopefully he can find a companion soon!

Susan Pevensie

Susan Pevensie was short skirts, unevenly chopped hair, scarlet lipstick like a blood smear.

She was sharp eyeliner, fights in the halls, and lipstick stains on the inside of a collar.

She was quiet looks of ice, headphones in her ears blaring, a wink from across the room.

Wild child, some said.

Orphan.

Ice queen. (Susan heard that one once. Memories, like a dream within a dream)

Sinner.

They saw her the way they wanted. She didn’t care.

They threw around me he words ice cold stare not knowing that her soul was ice now, that she numbed it to ease a pain deeper than anything they could understand.

(She was still haunted, at night. She was haunted by the images of rows of bodies covered in sheets. Of the police asking her to make sure that this was her mother. Her brothers.)

(She didn’t cry until Lucy. She gripped her hand and it was limp and she cried over the body that was not her sister because Lucy was so full of life and this couldn’t be her.)

She didn’t care what they thought of her.

Susan Pevensie was crying herself to sleep every night.

She was spitting at God then sneaking into church at midnight to fall to her knees in front of the altar, begging to be forgiven so she could join them.

She was kissing boys and girls in equal fervor knowing they were exactly the type Peter would have hated and trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes watching her, disapproving.

She was looking at her bleeding knuckles and feeling pain that had nothing to do with them because she remembered a time when Edmund’s hands bled and she’d had to patch them up.

She was crying, wailing, screaming, rocking back and forth on her knees in front of the dirt that held the pale remnants of what was once her family, smearing it on her face because this was all she had left.

Susan Pevensie was the beautiful tragedy, because she survived.

She survived and they were gone, taking her soul with them.

To fake the death of one sibling may be regarded as a misfortune; to fake the death of both looks like carelessness.
— 

Oscar Wilde about Mycroft Holmes

This started originally as a joke because I still find it unbelievable that Mycroft would have two siblings whose death he has to fake (in addition to Irene and Ajay who come back from the dead). And then it got a bit out of hand because I told @ebaeschnbliah about it and it grew into a little post.

Because of course the original is “To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.” Spoken by - ta-da - Lady Bracknell (a joke which is really driven home, isn’t it?).

So there is this:

  • Mycroft speaking of his mother in the past tense in ASiP (”and you know how it always upset Mummy)
  • the orphan tweets during the filming of TAB
  • Uncle Rudi taking the responsibility of the parents where Eurus was concerned
  • established Sherlock mirrors like Soo Lin and Henry Knight are orphaned as well

Thoughts?

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More baby badgers!

This feisty little badger cub arrived at the centre recently after being found alone in a garden. Sadly, despite attempts it was not possible to reunite her with her parents.

She was given a full checkup but lucky was uninjured. She was, however, covered in fleas and ticks, so was given a thorough anti-parasite treatment!
She was moved in to join our smallest badger cubs in our orphan shed and will stay with us until she is old enough for release!

Please like and share!

Hey who wants to talk about Eastern screech owl color morphs??

These tiny murder machines are orphaned babies in rehabilitation at the center where I volunteer (WildCare Inc, Bloomington IN). They have another foster sibling too, grey morph like the cutie in the middle except smaller and darker. Anyway, this photo was taken a month or so ago and the owlets have grown up a lot since then, and they’re now in an outdoor aviary learning to fly and hunt!

We get a lot of Eastern screech owls here (southern Indiana). Most are the grey morph, although not as overwhelmingly as in the northern part of their range (eastern Canada). This year’s batch of orphans is fascinating to look at because they all look so different that I don’t need to look at their leg bands to tell them apart!

Starting from the back: little red morph. Even as a tiny baby, this bird has always had reddish tones in its feathers. It’s smaller than the others, which could indicate that it’s male, but red morph owls tend to be smaller in general, so who (whooooo) knows.

In the middle we have “great grey.” Haha, not actually a great grey owl, but she’s a grey morph and she weighs more than her adult foster parent! Without a DNA test I can’t say for sure that she’s female, but it’s a fairly safe guess. This bird barely survived, actually. The tree her nest was in fell during a storm, and she and a sibling (who didn’t survive) were found on the ground, soaking wet and barely responsive. When she came in, I picked her up and she didn’t even move or open her eyes, and I only knew she was alive because I felt her breathing. She was probably about 10-12 days old. We got her in a cozy heated nest box and by the end of the week she was vocalizing and eating pretty well. Until she stopped. Volunteers noted on her chart that she wasn’t taking food, and when I fed her I could get her to eat the tiniest pieces - which she did very enthusiastically - but anything bigger than a mouse heart she’d just hold in her beak and eventually drop. I started to worry because I know that by that age they should be able to swallow surprisingly big pieces of food, and I knew she wasn’t eating overnight because her weight started to drop. She obviously wanted to eat, judging by how ravenously she ate the tiny pieces. I suspected that there might be something wrong with her mouth or throat, and bingo… we examined her and found an ulcer in her throat. Poor baby. Most likely her immune system was still compromised from her rough start and hypothermia. We hydrated her and started a course of medicine, and within a week she was eating again! By then she had a couple foster siblings, which I think helped, and we had our Eastern screech owl foster parent living with the babies too. At the babies’ most recent weight check, “great grey” was the biggest of the bunch and eating very well!

In the front we have a really gorgeous bird, an intermediate brown morph. Eastern screech owls aren’t only red or grey! This little one actually has some really fascinating coloring on the wings, dark brown with some rusty-red coverts. I’ve seen light brown morphs before but this owlet is darker and mottled and really gorgeous.

Their faces all look different too! It’s so cool how different birds of the same species, all approximately the same age, can look so incredibly unique. 😍

All four babies are doing great and on track to be released back into the wild once they learn how to hunt prey!