Patients Squawk About Hospital : Center Restores Winged Wounded to the Wild

The patient enters the operating room, draped in a pink towel, warily eyeing the doctor in his white coat and the shiny needle on the counter. She squawks.

She is not happy, but no one seems to care that her feathers are ruffled. Lots of patients squawk around here. This is a hospital for the winged wounded.

It’s the Raptor Research and Rehabilitation Program at the University of Minnesota, the nation’s oldest and largest healing center for birds of prey and a temporary nest for grounded birds from across the Midwest.

Brunhilda, a snarling bald eagle, is being examined to determine how well she’s recovering from a broken leg. She is a problem patient: She was taken in with a broken wing, then hurt her leg thrashing about while convalescing.

She is one of nearly 4,000 eagles and hawks, owls and falcons, swans and pelicans who have been brought here in need of some mending magic so they can soar once more.

“There’s nothing that makes me happier than seeing a patient released,” said Dr. Patrick Redig, veterinarian and co-founder of the program.

Each year, 300 to 400 raptors, or predatory birds, are brought in for treatment, most from the five-state area of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois and North Dakota. A few, however, have been sent from as far away as Alaska, California and Maine.

Some have broken wings or legs. Others have battered beaks, eyes poked out or bodies bruised from being shot or caught by traps or power lines. About half the injuries are accidental. Birds hit by cars are most common.

Great horned owls are most numerous. But more than 400 bald eagles and 1,500 non-raptors have also been admitted since the program began in 1972.

Worst Cases From Traps

Many of the injured or sick raptors that Redig sees have been sent to him as a last resort; they’ve failed to heal elsewhere or are cases no one wants.

“We get several birds who come in totally emaciated . . . unable to stand up, unable to hold their heads up,” he said. “The worst ones have been caught in traps and have literally pounded themselves to a pulp.”

About two of five recover and return to the wild. “If you go down to a field hospital in a war zone, I don’t think you’d have a much higher percentage,” Redig boasted.

The raptors, most of whom use their legs to kill, are not released unless they are 100% healed. Otherwise, they would not survive.

Those who don’t make it are divided into two categories: the disabled that are used for education or shipped to nature centers and breeding programs, and those that die or are humanely destroyed.

Visitors Draw Hisses

Many birds arrive in boxes, shipped by conservation officials or concerned citizens. Others are driven to the door by hunters or motorists.

Redig, too, gets involved, making late-night airport trips to pick up birds. Once, after a severe storm, he traveled to a lake where hailstones had broken the legs or wings of 30 pelicans.

The raptor program treats birds as hospital patients. The regimen includes tests, intravenous feedings, vitamins, antibiotics, X-rays, meals--usually rodents--and rehabilitation.

But these are no ordinary hospital halls. Feathers are strewn on the floor. Wading pools are set up for eagles to splash in. And new patients, their wings often wrapped in gauze, are housed in cages, hissing or snorting through wooden slats when visitors stop by.

Once they’re well enough, they begin spreading their wings in a room with padded walls. They next move to a 7-foot-wide hallway with two perches, 65 feet apart, where they can fly from end to end while doctors count the laps and check their breathing rates.

Eagles, because of their size, must be exercised outside on a 100-foot tether.

Some raptors, such as red-tailed hawks, take captivity in stride, Redig said. But “bald eagles tend to be very wild and fractious,” he said. “They will never be complacent about their circumstances. They fight you tooth and nail.”

Raptors generally want food, not companionship. But “if you sit and talk to them and cut up their meat . . . they’ll very hesitantly reach over,” Redig said. “From that point on, they’ll think you’re just great. Slow-moving gentleness goes a long way.”

But there are hazards. Brunhilda, for example, is so strong that in one examination, she buried a talon in a staff member’s arm and would not let go until she was anesthetized.

Peregrine Falcons Restored

In addition to treating raptors, Redig is working to restore the Midwest peregrine falcon population eliminated by DDT and other pesticides by releasing them from tall buildings in Minneapolis, Chicago and Grand Rapids, Mich.

Tall buildings with ledges make ideal homes for nesting and perches.

Today, the raptor program, co-founded by Gary Duke, a bird physiologist, has grown from a bare-bones operation to one with a staff of seven, a $245,000 budget and 190 volunteers. Next year’s projected budget is $345,000.

The highlight, though, remains the same: the release, which takes place in areas where raptors are likely to find food. For bald eagles, that means along the St. Croix or Mississippi rivers.

Twice a year, the public is invited to the mass releases.

“It’s a celebration,” Redig said. “It’s just completely exhilarating. Big or small, I don’t give a darn. It’s a great feeling to give another creature a chance at surviving.”