Last Tuesday, I had planned to go to Mudgee, but my body had different ideas. I had had a late night the night before, and my body said, REST! REST! rather loudly. So I listened. Unfortunately my animals didn’t listen.. I managed to stay in bed till about 6.30, and dragged myself out and fed them, and then organised some brekkie for me, hoping it would kick start my brain. It didn’t, but I enjoyed it anyway!
Around lunch time I was still in my jarmies, and thinking I was about ready to have a shower and do something about facing what was left of the day, when the phone rang. A lady had found a kookaburra sitting in the middle of the road, and could I take it please. She thought it was a baby. We made arrangements that she would bring it in…she thought it would be in about half an hour, so I decided I’d better delay the shower…
She was a bit less than that, and after she delivered the kookaburra, I gave it a quick inspection. There didn’t seem to be any damage, apart from some ruffled head feathers, and a wild eyed stare. It was definitely NOT a baby, but it looked to be a young adult, possibly a female. So I put it back in its box, and went and soaked some dog biscuits. It would need to be force fed, and hopefully would recover in 24 hours or so. After I had my shower, the dog biscuits were softened sufficiently, and I gave it a small feed. It was quite passive, and let me push the food down its throat. I then stroked its throat to encourage it to swallow, but it didn’t seem to do much of anything. This was the pattern for the rest of the day.
The next day I had decided I was going to Mudgee, and I would leave early before anything else happened! I knew I had a fair bit to do, but reckoned if everything went ok, I should be able to be home by lunch time, or a bit after. Of course, nothing went to plan, and I arrived home about four oclock! I had fed the kookaburra before I left, and it seemed a little more with it. I was concerned about leaving the kookaburra so long without a feed, but he ate twice as much as I thought he would. He was still being force fed, but he was showing a bit more spirit with this feed, and actually seemed to want more. Good, I thought, he seems to be coming good… Just before I went to choir practice that night, I fed him again, and this time struggled when I went to get him back in his box, and actually flew to the top of the curtain rail! Apart from the fact having to round him up made me late for choir practice (although when I told everyone why I was late, they forgave me….and had a giggle) I felt it boded very well for his future, and his release was imminent.
The next morning after I fed him, he flew through the house, so I dragged him down from the curtain rail again, and took him outside. The place he had been found was only a short distance out of town, and I felt sure he would find his way back there without too much trouble, so I perched him on the hand rail next to my steps. He needed no second invitation, and headed off into the wild blue yonder! I went inside, and finished my brekky. Or tried to. I was having my cuppa when there was a knock on the door. Outside were two young men tenderly carrying a rather large lump wrapped in a jumper. The lump was wriggling. We looked at each other and they said, we found this little guy next to his dead mother. We were concerned he would get run over. The little guy turned out to be a juvenile wombat. He would have weighed about 10 kg, or 22 pounds. He was too big to be trying to give bottles to, so I knew I would have to find someone who could take him with an appropriate yard, where he could live in a burrow till he was big enough to leave for the bush. In the meantime, we got him into a pouch, and I put the pouch into a cat carrier. He settled off.
I then finished my cuppa, and rang a friend whom I thought would have the appropriate set up for him. She was happy to take him, but wouldn’t be home till after lunch. Could she swap him for a magpie she had found stuck in her fence? She thought he would have to go to heaven…he had a badly injured leg. So, with that arranged, I had a shower. No sooner had I got out of the shower than the phone rang. It was the local school, and they had an injured red wattle bird. It couldn’t fly, and its beak was injured. However, just before I left, Nolan decided he needed a wee walk. He came back, and unknown to me, the wombat had got himself out of his pouch, and was sitting there observing us all from the cat carrier. Nolan of course decided he should inspect the wombat, but the wombat took exception to this behaviour and started growling ferociously. Nolan was completely unfazed, and kept sniffing. I thought the easiest thing to do was to put the wombat, still in the cat box, in the spare room, where I could shut the door. I covered him over with an old sheet. After I shut the door Nolan lost interest and went off to have a snooze…
So, disaster averted, off I went to the school. I found a rather distressed bird in box. The immediate concern was the beak, which appeared to be broken, and in such a position that he couldn’t retract his tongue. As disadvantaged as he was, he attempted to make a break for it…but, not being able to fly meant he wasn’t that hard to catch again. I took him to the vets, and the assistant and I examined him. The beak injury was nasty. She rang their head office, and asked was there anything could be done for him. After talking to one of the vets there, we decided the kindest thing was to send him to heaven. He wouldn’t be able to feed himself with his beak the way it was. After we euthanased him we examined him further and found a break in one of his wings as well. We thought it was highly likely he had been hit by a car.
Back home, for a quick lunch, and then deposit the wombat. When I went to take him to the car, he was fast asleep….I hated disturbing him….but I had to take him to his new home. Then I picked up the magpie, and the lady said his leg was a little better, but it was still in a very strange position. He had also made a break for freedom and had flown through the house, but had great difficulty perching with only one working leg. So back to the vets, and more assessing, and more discussion with the vet about what could be done. This fellow was sent to heaven as well. We had decided he had probably dislocated his leg from his pelvis, or even broken the neck of the femur. He also had nerve damage to his leg.
I went home, completely emotionally drained. I decided I needed a nanna nap, and sat down in my recliner, and fell asleep. About an hour and three quarters later, I was woken by an agitated Nolan, wondering who on earth was going to feed him! Not only could I hear him pacing the floor, he came and breathed on me (oh that dog breath!) and put his wet nose on my bare arm! I had no choice, I had to get up and take notice…and feed the poor starved dog…. I was still feeling a bit drained after being Doctor Death….but I knew that would pass. I had done what I had to do, and sometimes the only way we can help these injured animals IS to send them to heaven. It’s a fact of life. I gave myself a good talking to, and reminded myself that even though I’d lost two, I’d helped two…so good odds really.
The next morning, I went off to Bible Study. We had our Christmas party, and ate all sorts of naughty things, including mud cake, with cream. We enjoyed each other’s company, sang songs and watched a short dvd. We discussed our various plans for Christmas, and exchanged gifts.
So….even though the week had started badly….it finished well!
Mamaroo's Diary 
Reminder of how to deal with life’s trails.
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