Another passion, is rescuing injured/orphaned wildlife. I've been doing this since the very young age of 7, when I raised a fledgling thrush all by myself. I named him 'Micky' and he used to ride around on my head.I fed him bread soaked in milk, the horrible, sterilized milk we used to get, as we didn't have a fridge in those days. I used a plastic syringe to feed him the mixture and he seemed to thrive. He flew away quite healthy, but kept coming back, always landing on my head. That summer, our family went on holiday for a week or so. I remember crying as I didn't want to leave my baby bird. But when we came back from our holiday, I was delighted to see him fly from the trees and land on my head. There were six of us coming home, but he landed on my head. <><><><><><><> Turkey Vulture "Bones" and me 1984. . As I got older, I raised my sights somewhat, when I found an injured vulture by the roadside. It was 1983-84 and I was living in Southern California , in awe of the diversity of wildlife. Britain has it's own beauty and quaint charm, but the desert of California is breathtaking in it's own right. Soon after moving there, I bought some binoculars, as I had to get a closer look at the huge black birds, I saw everywhere. I drove out to remote places to get closer to them. Most of them were Turkey Vultures. We have nothing in England, to compare. I think, the largest bird of prey over there, would be a hawk similar to the Red Tail that's so prevalent in the US. I was fascinated by these big birds, and as I said- most were vultures. But every once in a while- and to my absolute delight-there would be a Golden Eagle. I became obsessed with birds of prey and devoured reading material from the library, to find out more about the indigenous wildlife. I then set about getting my falconers licence, taking the exam in Long Beach -at the Fish and Game dept. After I passed the exam, I was able to keep injured hawks, owls and other birds and wildlife. I had a tiny Burrowing Owl named 'Beezer', for a while. But have never lost my love for hawks, eagles and vultures. Is it a bird? -it's not plain- it's Superaven! I remember one day when I was out riding near Lake Perris, I looked up at the clear blue sky and saw- what I thought was a huge raven or something. My brain wouldn't compute-it seemed too big for a 'raven' and was carrying- what looked like- a large egg in it's beak? I was very puzzled. It didn't seem likely it could be a Golden Eagle, but I knew crows and ravens would steal anything . So I watched it - through squinting eyes - thinking, * but it's too big!* Then it hit me. Something I hadn't seen before in the wild, and a moment I'll never forget. It was - of course - a Bald Eagle! The 'egg' in the beak, being the beautiful white head of the bird. The slight feeling of humiliation quickly turned to one of awe as I watched now, with open mouth, murmuring the words, "Oh my God". That was the only one I ever saw in the wild in eighteen years of living in Southern Cal. Maybe no big deal, if you're from Alaska, but for a girl from Lancashire, it was one of those moments you never forget. <><><><><><><> Like the time I drove to Ventura to see the California Condors in the wild. In 19981 their numbers were dangerously low as they teetered on extinction. There was a captive breeding program started at the Condor Research Center and San Diego Zoo. But you could still-if you were very lucky- see the few left in the wild, coming home to roost on Mount Pinos in Ventura County. It was a thrill for me, not knowing if I�d even get to see them, but just knowing they were there. The smell of the mountains and the sheer naturalness of the area- I was in my element. Every large, dark coloured bird I saw, could have been a condor. But the white markings on the wings, would tell for sure. I saw several Golden Eagles and numerous hawks, but the condors eluded me. That is, until the end of the day, just before dusk. They were coming home from their day's scavenging. So high in the sky- they were like tiny specks- but with a distinction from all the other birds. They were twice the size of any bird I�ve ever seen flying before! Even though they were high in the sky, you could tell. They were magnificent. At that moment, my spirit soared as high as the condors, I was giddy, and I drove home contented. <><><><><><><> Meanwhile-back to the injured vulture on the roadside....... He let me get a little too close for comfort, so I knew something was wrong. I got my jacket from the car and threw it over him, to the cheers of onlookers. He played dead very convincingly, I thought I'd given him a heart attack! When I got him home I put him in the bathtub and gave him a little water. Holy crap, that thing was big! He had a six foot wingspan and wasn't afraid to use it. Needless to say, we both got a good soaking- but I got a good thrashing too! What happened to the 'playing dead game'? I liked that one much better. Maybe I should stick to baby thrushes? This guy scared me. After more careful inspection, I found he'd lost the sight in one eye, having been shot with a shotgun. Also, I could tell he was very young, as he had grey down on his head, rather than the bright red, bare skin of the adult Turkey Vulture. I named him "Bones" due to his feeding habits- it's all that was left after dinner! I got him tame enough to handle and kept him for three years, feeding him roadkill. Yes, gross I know, but it was worth it and I always made sure it was fresh, even though he was partial to the more 'vintage' roadkill, I do have my limits. Vulture Vommit. A friend who read this story recently, asked why I felt the need to go into detail about the roadkill. I told her, " Actually, I was holding back. I left out the worst part". I saw her nose turn up in anticipation and was happy to continue, " anyone who thinks that a dead skunk is the most pungent odor they've ever smelled, has never had the unfortunate experience of an angry vulture, throw up it's entire stomach-load of partially digested roadkill, right under their nose"! That did the trick. *evil laugh* After caring for Bones for three years, I handed him over to a local wildlife refuge in Riverside, where he was used in their educational program, exhibiting indigenous wildlife. <><><><><><><> back