Proximity to these proud and graceful creatures almost always inspires awe in those of us fortunate enough to have the opportunity. The beauty of soft and silent wings, fierce and golden or dark and intelligent eyes, the intricate patterns of color on feathers, those fine ancient talons and beak, the mighty effort of hatching, and the playful antics of young and growing minds all inspire a great range of feeling both in those who visit and work daily amongst the birds.

The efforts involved in healing the injured, rearing the orphaned without impression, and the ensuing work of fund-raising, educational programs, general animal husbandry, food stock breeding, new construction, and maintenance have created many opportunities for people with all sorts of skills to participate. Such work creates a richness of human interaction and creativity as well.

These pages are a collection of anecdotes and articles, essays and poetry that have arisen, and continue to do so, as a result of our efforts, experiences, as well as those stories known or perceived as of a few of the many injured or orphaned, but often resilient birds that have passed through our facility. Sometimes they are happy. Sometimes they are heart-breaking. Sometimes they are both.

We believe such stories speak of the human impact this endeavor achieves, which is as much a product of the Foundation’s work as the successful rehabilitation and release back to freedom of the thousands of injured and orphaned raptors over the lifetime of the organization.

Enjoy!

Elke Edwards

5/31/99

I received this five-week-old Golden Eagle chick in May of 1999. He was found on the ground, very emaciated, with severe wounds to the back on 4/11/99, he was cared for by a rehabilitator in Delta, Colorado, and flown here yesterday. She did a beautiful job caring for the bird-he tripled in size under her care. Upon admission the bird was placed in a kennel facing the “Fugitive,” an adult Golden who is recovering quite well from his fractured femur.

Today I examined, cleaned, washed, and preened the bird thoroughly and my photograph exhibits a few problems. The right wing droops, but no fractures were found. The possibility of elbow injury exists, which may not be detectable until the primaries grow. The wing hangs. I placed a very, very loose band of vet-rap around the wing and body to provide light support and encourage the muscles and bone to grow into the proper conformation.

When I look at the photograph I also noticed that the head formation is asymmetrical. Hunger-stress marks are apparent all over the feathers. The tail feathers are twisted and breaking off. Still, what a lovely bird! Has he escaped the relentless pursuit of brother “Cain,” who is likely still in the nest? The photo also reveals how much he likes his food. Look at that crop!

I named him Aquila. I will continue my photo essay on his progress.

5/14/99

I left the vet-rap immobilization on him for three days. The light band I put around his wing and body actually became snug – that’s how fast he grows! He is now holding his right wing up, but slightly out. Look at those gorgeous ballerina leggings! The feathers are growing well and are becoming shiny. The wounds on his back have healed and there are feathers growing everywhere! There are a few “dandy lion plumes” left on his head. The others are floating all over the ICU. He lives on soft blankets and towels in a 500 Kennel, that is tied onto a cart with wheels. I have an Eagle Stroller! He looks at the Fugitive all day.

Aquila explored his new home and enjoyed climbing to high places. He found the water container especially intriguing.

Fugitive, the Golden with the fractured femur, went with him into the much larger (20′x10′x12′) cage. I rated the temperament of this Golden, believed to be a male, as impatient and restless. This bird needed to move on to the 108-foot flight cage. He did not pay much attention to Aquila, but tolerated him.

On occasion, he would land next to the youngster, Aquila exhibiting submissive posture each time this happened. The fledgling lowered his head in submission and froze in this position when the adult male was close by. It made me uncomfortable. The adult male was moved into the large flight cage, where he seems much more comfortable.

A female golden eagle, Magi, was placed with Aquila on 6-9-99. Magi is about 4 years old, and suffered from a collision with a vehicle. She is blind in one eye, and fractured her wrist, and for some reason refuses to go to high places in the large flight cage. The young bird was intrigued by his new foster parent and eyed her from every angle and direction. Magi is gentle, very beautiful, and has sweet, soft eyes.

Eventually they ended up perching side by side. Aquila (above left) appears to be comfortable in her presence. Later that evening he settled down on another shelf perch for the night. I left them tonight with the good feeling that Aquila may have finally found his role model. Cheers for Magi! Love to beautiful Magi! And a speedy recovery for the Fugitive, who was Aquila’s role model for the first weeks in his life.

He is uncomfortable in the presence of humans and I do attribute his behavior to the lack of human contact, and his role model, Magic Magi. He does not appear to be bonded or imprinted on humans. It is my impression that he never wanted to, instead his attitude has always been one of independence. During his recovery he received the necessary care, love and attention when he needed it most. The careful nurturing in his infant days, and the necessary assistance in the healing of his wounds provided him with enough space to develop his own identity. And by all means, he has developed a personality! Like so many other babies I raised, it is often hard to let go. But they are not ours to keep.

I will always recognize him and admire the wide-eyed, innocent, and expressive look in his eyes. Tomorrow he and Magi will join three Bald Eagles and five Golden Eagles in the flight cage. A moment I have anticipated for quite some time.

7/13/99

Today we netted and caught Aquila and moved him into the flight cage. He behaved just like any other eagle I have handled in the past. Afraid, upset and ready to leave human hands for good! He wasted no time to flutter and run to the opposite side of the 108-foot long eagle cage.

When he arrived at the other end of the cage he boldly proceeded to climb the ladder to the highest place in the cage.Then he realized that there were other Goldens present in these high places. Aquila is the eagle on the far right. What a great surprise!

For now he is safe and he will remain here until next spring. He will learn the hierarchy in the cage, find his place, and obey the rules. He will learn to associate with other eagles, and find out when it will be his turn to eat, bathe, or where he will be allowed to perch. From now until his release he will practice pursuing dark colored bunnies in the high grasses that grow in the cage.

The little eagle that was not meant to live survived and will spend his winter here. Some day next spring he will return to the southern parts of Colorado, the place that was his home for such short time in his life. Without the wonderful initial care by Jeanie Carlson, a rehabilitator in Delta, Colorado, he would not have lived.

Many thanks to Michael Maya Charles, who not only flew little Aquila in his private plane from Delta to Erie, but also fell in love with him. For his birthday Michael’s wife adopted Aquila for him as a gift. He received a beautiful certificate with a baby picture of Aquila.

Sigrid

Adam knows his name and he responds to it. He had been shot 21 years ago and became a teaching bird. His new home has the view of the mountains and has been totally remodeled for his needs. It is equipped with ladders and perches for comfort and mobility.

He loves Heidi and always throws his head back and greets her enthusiastically when she approaches the gate. Adam and Heidi have established a wonderful relationship and I feel he is as happy as a bird in captivity can be. They travel to places to give awesome eagle programs.

When Adam arrived and was settled in his cage, I had the sense that there was something important missing in his life – he needed something to do, or some kind of addition to enrich his life, perhaps a companion – a “room-mate”. We introduced Adam to a young Bald Eagle, a Golden Eagle and a Red Tailed Hawk. For some reason none of these combinations worked out. Then one day I had the bright idea to try putting a lonesome Raven in with him. Ravens are such intelligent and creative creatures. They are also quite social and do poorly when alone and isolated in captivity. Adam and the Raven also had something in common: they had both been shot out of the sky.

Lo and behold, when the Raven went into Adam’s cage, the fun began! They play games with each other, tease each other, talk to each other and they play tricks on one another. We have observed the Raven stealing Adam’s favorite food, a quail, right from under his feet! Most of the time we observe them sitting peacefully side by side, looking over the fields towards the mountains in the west. I wonder about the stories they tell each other.

A call from Boulder Animal Control officers, and the Colorado Division of Wildlife about the arrival of the two birds gave me some preliminary warning of the situation. The birds arrived wrapped into blankets and tarps like Siamese twins. They were quiet, and I assume both were in shock, not realizing what had happened. Their combat had ended in a state of ceasefire, but neither bird seemed to understand the mutual confinement they imposed on each other. They were docile and did not need to be anesthetized. There was no flexing of talons, no aggression; they were absolutely passive. Their heads were covered with towels and we methodically attempted to ‘disengage’ the powerful weapons they use in their everyday life.

I named them the Gladiators after Crassus and Spartacus, who were mortal enemies in their time in Roman history.

One talon at a time was pried from the body of the opposing bird. There were wounds to the chest, the lower body cavity, legs and feet.

Wounds were cleaned and medicated topically. We administered no other systemic antibiotics or treatment beyond good, wholesome fresh food, minimum handling and careful observation. When the first bird was freed of the restraint of his involuntary partner, he was placed into a cage to rest and regain his dignity. The other bird was placed in another room, away from his opponent, also to adjust and finally to relax. Basically, they were both were put in jail for their extreme behavior. They were the bad boys that needed to be rehabilitated.

Both birds were quiet and seemed to be appreciative of the care they received. They obeyed the house rules, eating their meals and accepting the care they received. They bowed to their punishment of captivity and were exceptional inmates, soon to be eligible for probation.

Spartacus, who only had injuries to his belly and leg was the first to be moved into the “Exercise Yard” = Flight Cage. The control band on his leg read “U1″ The records revealed that he was a four year old male, banded in 2001 at the Standly Lake nest, south of Boulder, in Jefferson County. Spartacus was always on his best behavior, exercising and pleading to go free soon.

Those mighty talons now belong to one bird only

He was released three weeks after his recovery, mind you, still on probation. Shortly before arriving at the place of his recovery, the bird panicked and thrashed in his cage. What must have gone through his mind? Something like “Oh no, let us not repeat this ordeal again??!!”

When I took him out of his carrier I gave him ample time to look around, so he could make sure there was no enemy in the area. When I let him go, his departure was defined by strong, self-assured wing beats as he cruised across a field to land in a tree. Soon afterwards he chose a course north, along the Front Range.

Eventually Crassus recovered from his chest injury and arrived at the “Exercise Yard.” Spartacus had already be released. He too was a perfect inmate, on his best behavior, relieved to have escaped his opponent. When his flight was strong and perfect, he too was released at the “Scene of the Crime”, two weeks after Spartacus. He flew confidently and remained in the area.

Who won the battle? Is it Crassus, who may establish a territory and attract a female to the area one day; or is it Spartacus, the juvenile warrior, whose band read “U1″ , translated into “You Won”?

May both of these magnificent birds prosper and thrive, and may they not ever meet again in the future. For now, they are still on probation. Watch out boys! I am here!

By Katie Ford, Camera Staff Writer
April 5, 2003

BROOMFIELD — As a hawk swoops overhead, Sigrid Ueblacker, president of the Birds of Prey Foundation, points out the damage to the large flight cage that held injured hawks in need of rehabilitation.

“It looked like a tornado hit it,” Ueblacker said.

Last month’s snowstorm destroyed the roof of the cage, releasing 34 hawks.

Eight of the missing birds were recovered, and Ueblacker said most of the rest are coming back for food and may still be recaptured.

This weekend, volunteers will start rebuilding the large, wooden flight cage. Ueblacker plans to remodel the roofs of the hawks cage and other cages, a project she said could take more than $15,000.

The foundation is seeking donations to fund the cage remodeling. The organization doesn’t receive government funding and depends entirely on private donations. A thrift store in Louisville also helps to support the foundation.

Ueblacker said the foundation hopes to generate donations by telling the story on their Web site, www.birds-of-prey.org, and installing a Web-based credit card payment option over the next two weeks. The foundation is also holding a silent auction art show on May 31 at the Art & Soul Framing and Gallery in Arvada to raise funds.

About 100 birds — including hawks, eagles, owls, vultures, falcons and other birds — live at the Birds of Prey Foundation. The foundation, which opened in 1984, rehabilitated more than 500 birds in 2000.

Ueblacker said many of the birds that end up at the center have had their habitats destroyed by development or were injured by vehicles.

There are two other bird rehabilitation groups in Colorado similar to Birds of Prey — Rocky Mountain Raptor in Fort Collins and Raptor Center of Pueblo.

Jerry Craig, the state raptor biologist for the Colorado Division of Wildlife, said Birds of Prey may be the top bird rehabilitation organization in the country based on the number of birds it successfully releases back into the wild each year.

He said the important part of wild bird rehabilitation is that the birds return to the wild and don’t live the rest of their life in a cage.

Craig said the large flight cages at Birds of Prey are an essential part of that process because they allow for birds to build up muscle tone through flying in the cage.

Birds of Prey plays an important role because people expect that injured birds they find will be rehabilitated, Craig said.

“This is a situation where the public is making a demand, but the need for it is being met by the private sector and private donations,” he said.

Craig said more injured birds are being rescued because development is increasing and destroying habitats and, in turn, more people live in the area and are finding injured birds that need rehabilitation.

He said Ueblacker is just the person for that job.

“She thinks like an owl or a hawk, and she suffers with them,” he said.

Holding a Boreal owl while it is tagged so it can be tracked when released, Ueblacker demonstrates the trust birds have in her. As the small owl nestles calmly against her chest, Ueblacker scrutinizes the leg band to make sure it will be comfortable and safe for the owl to wear.

She said she fell in love with birds when her daughter brought home two injured birds more than 20 years ago.

The most rewarding part of her job, Ueblacker said, is watching a bird with broken legs stand again or watching a bird with broken wings take flight.

“They are just precious,” she said. “They’re beautiful. They’re interesting. They’re intelligent.”

To donate to the Birds of Prey Rehabilitation Foundation send checks to The Birds of Prey Foundation, 2290 S. 104th St., Broomfield, CO 80020. For more information visit birds-of-prey.org or call (303) 460-0674.

In January of 2002 we released a beautiful Lady Eagle south of Boulder on Open Space property.

She was found just east of the release site under a power line, that was still vibrating from the impact that grounded the fatally injured bird with a fractured ulna and radius in her wing.

The man who found the mortally wounded eagle was a Native American, Nick Conda–Yellow Hands. Hours after her arrival Nick became a familiar and well-received guest and comforter of the eagle. His polite and gentle manners gave him access to “his” Lady Eagle any time he visited.

I remember the day when I took Omani Tate to Dr. Lee Eggleston for surgery in the middle of a snow storm. Usually, I never travel to Colorado Springs during a storm because of the dangerous road conditions. However, I knew that Nick was praying for both of us, and this gave me confidence to continue my journey. The surgery went well and upon my arrival Nick was waiting for both of us to find out about the outcome of the surgery.

During the next 12 months Nick visited “His Girl” several times a week. He offered her gifts, he fixed prayer ties on the trees outside of the clinic. Often I gave him the space and privacy to spend time alone with the bird, because I knew that the two of them had a special connection that needed to be cultivated.

In time the cool steel pin that was inserted into the fractured bone was removed and Omani Tate was moved into our large aviary. It was a great day, and as usual, Nick was there. He continued to visit her, offered gifts, smoked his special pipe and paid respect to the Holy One. He began to tie black, white, yellow and blue prayer medicine bundles on the trees outside the flight cage now. Nick was always welcome. He never imposed and he was always respectful of all the birds he met.

There came the day when I realized that Omani’s wrist joint was not as mobile and flexible as it should have been, and my heart sank. Something needed to happen to let this eagle fly again. Nick often visited the territory of Omani Tate and her mate had been occupying for many years. He knew that her mate was still waiting and hoping for her return.

Never have I given anyone the permission to do what I allowed Nick to do. To me it felt good and right, and to Nick is was a ritual of respect and determination to return her to her home and her mate. Several times each week Nick went respectfully into the cage and set a goal for “His Girl”. He gently began to move her through the 108 foot cage from one perch to the other. With his help and his optimism she began to improve and her joint limbered and became flexible and whole again.

Nick chose the location of her release. On a beautiful January day in 2002 we began our journey of a great day. As I removed the bird from her transport cage, I handed her to Nick. His joy was immense and as he finally held her in his arms. She looked up at him, and the connection between the man and the bird was so clear. “I will never forget you Girl,” were the words he said when he set her free.

We stayed for a long time afterwards, we participated in his rituals, burned sage, smoked the pipe, and drank a blessed drink he offered us as we prayed. We watched her move around the trees across the valley. It was a perfect and peaceful day as we left the area. Our God was with us.

The following day Nick burst into the office with a face shining of joy and pride as he announced the sighting of his “His Girl” and her mate flying together.

“So, Nick”, I said, “how do you know it was your bird that flew with the male eagle?”

“I know it was her, because she still had a slight droop to her right wing when she perched, and I saw the white feather on that injured wing.”

“All true,” I said to myself. “You can’t fool an Indian.” And “more power to the eagle who waited for his mate for one whole year.”

The magic went then. I tried to bring Nick back to participate in future projects, but somehow he faded away. This bird was a highlight of his life, and a turning point in his future.

It was one time, one eagle, one beautiful and perfect day that brought us together for a bittersweet, short and precious moment. All that happened was good and right, and it ended in a perfect day. Little in our lives lasts forever, but these treasured moments will be remembered forever. May our two eagles soar in our beautiful blue skies together for a long time to come.

Hello, my name is Mayflower. I’m a baby Great Horned Owl.
My mother had a nest in a tree that humans wanted to cut down to build a road. They took away our home and the place she chose to raise her family. I will never, ever know my mother, but I think I will be just like her.

(at right, Mayflower in the incubator)

While I was working hard to make my way out of my egg, my new human foster Mom did something special. She planted a tree for the one that was our home and was cut down. It will give a home and life to many birds and animals.

I hatched on May 2, 1998 at 9:30 p.m. It took me 36 hours to get out of my egg. Fortunately I had help from my human foster mom. She peeled away those hard eggshells that surrounded my body. They felt so confining, but once I had my right wing out and I could move my head I felt much better. Now I can stretch and move and feel good.

I am warm and comfortable in my incubator. The folks here in the ICU are taking great care of me and feeding me tiny bits of mice when I’m hungry. I have a feather duster over me to make me feel secure, it’s not my real Mom but it’ll do in a pinch. Soft towels cushion my tiny feet and legs. The picture is me at 6 days old. Check back in a week or so and you can see more pictures as I begin to grow.

May 18, 1998

I couldn’t wait all week to tell you what happened! I have a friend. I really have a friend! I was moved out of the incubator, feather duster & all! Now I live with Annie. She’s a little older than I, but is very sweet and polite. We have lots in common, because we both are Great Horned Owls…and she likes to eat too!

(At left, Here I am at 2 weeks. Can you see my pot belly?)

She won’t tell me anything, because she thinks I am too young to hear all this. Annie got a bath and her eyes and lids were cleaned and medicated, and now she looks absolutely beautiful!

Across the room from us, in a large cage is another owl. I think he is a Daddy Owl with big ear tufts, large yellow eyes and huge feet. His strong black talons (that’s what we call the claws) are large and shiny. One of his wings does not look quite right and he cannot fly. I heard a rumor that he was hit by a car. What’s a car? He misses his family terribly and his eyes are so sad! He looks at us all day. I think I like him very much! When I try to look at him I have to move my neck. This way my head goes up and down and sideways and then I suddenly can see him clearly. I can’t move my eyes from the left to the right, but I sure can move my neck!

At night, when no one is around Daddy Owl even talks to us: Hoo-hoo- – -hoo-hoo. Why does this sound so familiar?
M O T H E R…? Yes, I remember you! I would really like to get to know him better. But I guess I am still a little young for that. For now I will go back to sleep and cuddle with my feather duster and Annie and grow a little more. Some day soon I will get to meet Daddy Owl.

(Pretty cute, huh? I’m starting to look like a real owl)

May 14, 1998

I am two weeks old today. My eyes are open now, and they are blue. Slowly, I am beginning to see things. Everything still looks kind of blurry.

Want to know what I have been doing the last week? I ate, and ate, and ate! In between I am waiting to hear something that sounds just like my mother’s voice… hooo-hoo – - hoo-hoo. I always wake up to that sound and answer right away, with my little voice and ask to be fed.

The food is really good here, I can highly recommend this place. My human foster mom makes sure that I get all the things my own mother would have given me. Like bones and fur, so I can make my very own little pellets.

My own bones are growing and I am getting bigger every day. That’s why I have to eat so much, because everything is growing so fast! Sometimes I fall asleep when they feed me. It’s such hard work to grow and eat at the same time.

Out of my white downy feathers little gold and white barred feathers are sprouting. I try to preen my new feathers. They look so neat and they make me feel kind of grown up. And then I fall asleep when I am in the middle of my chores.

I hear them talk about me. Sometimes I stick my head out of the feather duster and listen when they think I am sleeping. They say I am chubby and I have a pot belly, and then I hear them say how cute I am. Well, I know that!

I also heard that I am a very late baby, since most baby owls hatch in April around here. Because I hatched in May, they named me Mayflower.

So long for now, I will report back next week and tell you all about what has happened.

I love you too — Mayflower

May 23, 1998 – Mayflower & Annie meet their foster Daddy

Today was a magical day. Annie and I met Daddy owl. All three of us were moved into a large cage and I finally met Daddy in person. Just as a suspected, he is wonderful. We posed for a few pictures and that was fine. Daddy was a little nervous, but Annie and I knew how wonderful he was when we met him first.

(At left, here we are with our new Daddy!)

When Annie saw him for the first time she took a long, long look at him, bobbed her head up and down and sideways, and decided, YES, this is what she has been missing for a long time. Annie was so happy to see another owl, that she reached over and began to preen her hew Daddy’s feathers. I think both of them missed their family terribly, and suddenly both of them are so happy.

I really don’t know what to think about all of this, because Daddy is someone I wanted to meet for a long time. Late tonight, when all was quiet, Daddy came to visit with us. He left his perch and joined us. For the first time there is happiness in his eyes, because he adopted us and now has a new family. Oh, do I love my new Daddy!

My human foster mom had a big happy smile on her face as she stood for a long, long time before our cage in disbelief and appreciation. Daddy loves us, and that’s what counts.

I got my wish — I met my new Daddy. I even got to keep my feather duster! I still like to wabble towards it and sleep under it. It seems everybody is happy tonight. Life is good!

Yours truly, Mayflower

How is it that wild creatures seem to sense our feelings, our kind intentions, and respond to them in unusual and subtle ways? If we begin to pay attention to the stories they have to tell us, we may find some of our long lost senses and instincts, and begin to understand our magnificent wild friends.

When Elaine and I carried the crate with the wounded bald eagle into the room and I opened the door, I knew a rough night was ahead of me. The magnificent bird had her wing twisted and her blood-stained feathers trailed the floor of the cage.

For some reason this bird touched my soul immediately. She was never given a name; she has become the unknown soldier who symbolized the hundreds of thousands of the past, that had died at the hands and deeds of man. She roused memories of the many eagles, falcons, hawks and owls I had cared for in the past. She reminded me of untold nights spent with so many that had needed me.

She offered little resistance to being handled. Humbly, both of us worked to clean the horrible wounds and flush out the dirt, sand and foreign objects. The broken bones had to be repositioned under the skin so that they would survive until surgery. There was a sense of anticipation, of urgent care for a fatal injury, to save the bird that was resting on the table, surrounded by blankets and towels. We then immobilized the damaged wing. Our work was completed.

It was time to meet her and look into those magnificent saffron eyes. I lifted the towel that had hooded her head. I wanted to welcome her and let her know that she was safe. All birds are greeted here in this way. She allowed the comfort of my hands that gently stroked her beautiful white head. She closed her eyes in contentment. She understood.

We placed her carefully into a cage on soft blankets and towels, where she finally was able to rest. Later, she gratefully accepted a cool and comforting drink. For the next six hours I remained with her.

Many times during my vigil, I walked on quiet soles to her room and observed her breathing. I offered her more water to drink, I re-adjusted her blankets and knelt in front of her cage, or remained next to her, and stroked that majestic white head.

Long before I would have given up hope, she knew her final hour had come. She took her fate with grace and dignity. She accepted the care and love I provided for her. A lesson to be learned for the future.

I think she flew into a power line and took a long, fatal fall towards the frozen, hard earth. In my mind I relived her horrors. She must have plummeted to the ground like a rock. Did the fall break her bones, or was it the invisible, icy steel wire?

Next to her bed, in another cage stood another beautiful Bald Eagle quietly on a perch. He knew about his room mate’s fate. Why is it that eagles just know?

In another cage in this room was a Golden Eagle, who also knew. Her huge, gentle brown eyes told me so. I later named her Melody. In my little clinic I sometimes experience the watchful eyes of other birds while I do my work. I found myself apologizing to the birds about the condition of their new comrade and assured them in silent tongue that I am doing the best I can.

Something mysterious and eerie began to happen. The Golden Eagle began to sing in soft, almost whispering notes. For the next six hours, while I humbly cared for her injured friend, the Golden continued to sing her quiet, melodious song. Was it a lullaby for a suffering soul?

After midnight the wounded bird moved and struggled. I rushed to her cage. She fought as Father Death began to claim his toll. I took her in my arms to help and comfort her, when she took her last breath. I buried my face in her fragrant feathers and my tears pearled off her white head.

At the last I wanted to comfort her spirit and honor her life. I returned her body into her soft warm bed. Her lifeless head rested on the blanket. I stroked her satin black feathers. Her eyes were closed.

Somewhere, somehow, this eagle flew again in the golden sunshine of a green day and touched the face of God. With her, the many I had helped and the many I had lost soared from deep blue canyons to white, cool clouds, beyond the sky, into the brilliant sun and found life once again.

And my eagle sang no more.

January 23, 1998
Sigrid Noll Ueblacker

A few summers ago a quiet young man came to our facility to work. I don’t even remember his name. But I remember him for who he was and what he said. He brought all the necessary paperwork from the courts. He chose our facility to volunteer for community service. He was assigned the job of cleaning and caring for the rabbits each Sunday morning. It appeared that he liked caring for these gentle soft-eyed creatures. He learned well and I think he liked his job. He seemed troubled and never talked much, just did his work. I did not ask either, it is better to be quiet and wait for a person to talk about himself.

One Sunday afternoon, when the work was completed he took off the Walkman he always wore and told me that in two weeks he would be finished here and would be able to put all his troubles behind him. He would even be allowed to see his little baby daughter again. I was happy for him, because when he talked about his child there was a beautiful spark in his eyes.

This was the first time I fully understood the concept of this program. We always appreciate the help we receive from the community service volunteers and we always go out of our way to make them comfortable. It is the decent thing to do. Who am I to throw the first stone? Nobody is perfect.

But on this bright Sunday afternoon I realized that we do more than just help birds fly free again, we also help troubled people find their path once more. It was a wonderful feeling. I hope this young man continues to put his life together and I often wonder about him – just as I do about the birds we release.

It was early that cold Saturday morning. I was making my morning check of the owlet who had, just 4 days earlier, fallen out of the nest. The owlet was still too young to fly but had the ability to climb. With mama’s coaxing, it found a refuge from the coyotes, people and dogs that inhabit the area. We knew that mama owl was still feeding the “little wayward one” who had taken up residence in another tree. Several days earlier we had seen the rabbit she had placed upon the tree branch where the owlet was now perched.

Last night we were scheduled for a spring storm, the kind that brought the heavy, wet Colorado snow. I made my way through 4 to 5 inches of snow on my way to the tree. It was not difficult to spot the owlet. There was the brown lump on the tree branch.

My eyes filled with tears as I realized what the scene was before me. There sat mama, with the “wayward one” nestled to her chest, sharing warmth. I returned a couple hours later when it was light enough to snap the picture. They had not moved. Mama knew I was there but still would not leave her post. She had her baby to take care of.

I thanked mama owl for the beautiful lesson she had delivered. Tomorrow would take on a new meaning for me. Happy Mother’s Day. May 11, 2003

by Janell Benson