A smalltown wildlife rescue in the age of social media

By Heath Hughes

BAM! Something hit my car as I was driving home on Route 44 one night last fall. The sun had just crossed the edge of the trees and it was almost completely dark. I caught a glimpse of large, white wings. 

I immediately pulled my car over, reversing it far enough onto the shoulder so my headlights shone into the traffic lane. An owl had hit my car and lay unmoving on the road. 

I stepped out and cautiously walked down the middle of the road. A car was approaching and slowed down but didn’t stop, apparently not seeing the huge wing extending in the air or the 6’2” man in the road. It ran the already injured owl over. 

After yelling a few choice words, I used the flashlight from the glove box to assess the bird’s injuries as thoroughly as I could. I hoped there would be a spot where I could pick it up to move it to a safer area. 

The owl moved a little in response to the light. I came closer and inspected its wings. I was concerned that one or both might be broken, while also worried that the owl would panic and beat me unconscious in the middle of Route 44. I didn’t like either of those scenarios. 

The owl’s wings looked fine, and I folded them down, carrying the owl closer to my car and into the headlights to see its injuries better. The owl’s head turned a full 180 degrees like a wind-up toy, and the owl looked straight back at me. I could see blood oozing from its right nostril. The owl then lifted itself up with its wing to stand upright. I’d never seen a wild animal do anything like that before. 

The owls’ left eye was fully open; the right one, however, kept fluttering and opened only halfway. The owl also leaned to its right, with its talons tucked under its right wing. 

As I went back to the car for my phone, the owl’s head followed me a full 200 degrees or more. I called my wife, Kelly, not sure what she could do, but knowing I had to do something to help this owl. Kelly called her nature-loving friend, Katherine Griswold, who immediately updated her status on Facebook: 

Friends started posting suggestions, such as to contact Sharon Audubon and tag people for emergency wildlife transportation. Our Norfolk friends Madeline Falk and her partner Jon Riedeman also saw the post. Jon called me with a contact for Angela Luna Grano, a federally licensed wildlife rehabilitator in Norfolk, while Madeline let people on Facebook know we had a contact. 

At this point, I started thinking of Owl as the bird’s name. When I heard from Jon, I knew I had to get Owl in the car, which worried me. It could be catastrophic if I put Owl in the backseat and he (or she) suddenly became mobile and started flying around while I was driving. Using a blanket, I wrapped Owl up like a baby and settled it into a box I just happened to have in the trunk. I also had a stadium chair in the trunk and placed that over the box to help keep Owl safe and contained. 

For the next few minutes, I drove down Route 44 with the surreal feeling of having a live owl in my trunk. I met Jon and together we rode to Angela’s Three Feather Farm. Angela assessed Owl, then gently scooped the bird out of the box. Just like that, Owl was safe and was soon being fed. 

Exactly one week later, Owl, who turned out to be a barred owl, flew away into the morning. Angela reported the bird did all its own healing; she simply fed Owl and kept it secure in an aviary to rest its wings. I was excited to hear the news and posted an update on Facebook. Everyone cheered about Owl’s recovery.