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As I was driving around running errands today, I managed to catch a glimpse of a red-shouldered hawk flying past. It was high enough to be moving at a good speed, but low enough to see the spread of its wings, and the colors on its back and shoulders as it spiraled upwards, and I watched it for a minute or two before it moved out of sight. I don't quite know exactly what about raptors makes them so beautiful and majestic and special, but seeing that made today that much more bright.
And, thinking about this, I realized just how lucky I am to have had the chance to work with birds like that. It's not something I talk about much, since I don't have a lot of colorful and wacky entertaining stories about working with raptors, but it was one of the most rewarding aspects of vet school for me. I spent four years working in the raptor ward, and I've had the chance to handle birds from kestrels the size of the palm of my hand to great horned owls with a wing span that rivals my own height. I love pets, and I'd never survive in wildlife medicine for long, but at the same time there's something primal and glorious and exhilarating about working with such powerful, untamed animals. There's a sense of raw emotion in their gaze that domesticated animals can never match, and every time you touch them there's a small miracle happening, in their allowing you (however unwillingly) to help them. The beating of their wings and the clenching of their talons on the gauntlet is powerful in a way that I don't quite know how to describe, as if they're trying to reach a wild core inside me that atrophied a thousand generations ago, but hasn't quite disappeared completely. And nothing but nothing in the world can ever rival the sight of a bird being released back into the wild after you've worked to bring it back to life and health, disappearing into the sky without a backward glance.
I miss it, sometimes. I love working with pets, and I know that wildlife practice isn't what I'm meant for - I'm too attatched to long-term care and the emotional aspect of practice - but sometimes I just want to be able to stare an owl in the eyes and imagine what it sees and feels once it can spread its wings again. On the other hand, I need to remind myself how luck I am to have had the chance to learn and work with them, even once.
And, thinking about this, I realized just how lucky I am to have had the chance to work with birds like that. It's not something I talk about much, since I don't have a lot of colorful and wacky entertaining stories about working with raptors, but it was one of the most rewarding aspects of vet school for me. I spent four years working in the raptor ward, and I've had the chance to handle birds from kestrels the size of the palm of my hand to great horned owls with a wing span that rivals my own height. I love pets, and I'd never survive in wildlife medicine for long, but at the same time there's something primal and glorious and exhilarating about working with such powerful, untamed animals. There's a sense of raw emotion in their gaze that domesticated animals can never match, and every time you touch them there's a small miracle happening, in their allowing you (however unwillingly) to help them. The beating of their wings and the clenching of their talons on the gauntlet is powerful in a way that I don't quite know how to describe, as if they're trying to reach a wild core inside me that atrophied a thousand generations ago, but hasn't quite disappeared completely. And nothing but nothing in the world can ever rival the sight of a bird being released back into the wild after you've worked to bring it back to life and health, disappearing into the sky without a backward glance.
I miss it, sometimes. I love working with pets, and I know that wildlife practice isn't what I'm meant for - I'm too attatched to long-term care and the emotional aspect of practice - but sometimes I just want to be able to stare an owl in the eyes and imagine what it sees and feels once it can spread its wings again. On the other hand, I need to remind myself how luck I am to have had the chance to learn and work with them, even once.
