Laura Erickson's For the Birds

Archimedes

On April 7, 2000, I gave a talk about owls for a birding festival held at Bowling Green University near Sandusky, Ohio. After my talk, I met Mona Rutger, the woman who created and runs “Back to the Wild,” a rehab facility in Huron, Ohio. I mentioned I had a permit to keep a screech owl as an education bird but didn’t have an owl and her face lit up—it just so happened that she had a couple of non-releasable owls that needed to be transferred to educational facilities soon, before she would be required to euthanize them. She already has two screech owls licensed for education for her programs, and that is her limit.

This was a totally unexpected development. I had to call my husband Russ to fax my state and federal permits to me. And on Saturday afternoon, a close friend of mine named Paula who lives in Cleveland brought me to Mona’s to pick up my little owl.

One of Mona’s unreleasables had been hit by a car, and had a badly injured eye and ear. The other was in perfect health. That one had been brought to her as a baby, sick and in terrible condition, and she had spent so much time nursing it back to health that it had become imprinted on humans and dependent upon human care. Normally Mona hardly handles baby screech owls at all—one of her education birds doubles as a nursemaid, feeding any baby, or adult, screech owls that will allow it to. This is a wonderful setup, because it relieves the powerful urge to nurture that is prevalent in screech owls each spring, and provides the babies with the kind of natural parenting that makes them most likely to thrive as genuinely wild birds. So Mona seldom has any imprinted birds. That little owl was very mild-mannered and easy going. The one with the injuries was much more frightened and anxious being handled. Since I talk to many large groups of people, I decided it would be better to take the calmer bird. He’s a gray-colored male screech owl, and very tiny, weighing in at 6 ounces. I named him Archimedes.

So I headed back to my motel with a little owl and some frozen mice to tide me over until I get some shipped. The woman at the motel desk happened to be Mona’s cousin, so there was no trouble bringing the owl to my room, which came equipped with a refrigerator for the mice. Paula, Archimedes and I had a quiet evening together. I held him on my glove and gently stroked his facial feathers to get him used to me. In nature, owls often preen their mate and family members’ faces—this allopreening cements their bonds. It sure worked with Archimedes. I needed him to feel as secure as possible with me because the next day we were flying home.

My ticket was with American, but one of my flights was cancelled and the woman at the desk didn’t want me to wait six hours at O’Hare, so she switched me to Northwest. The man at their desk has been working for them for 32 years and had never had a passenger bring an owl before. Even though it was in a small cardboard carry-on that easily fit under a seat, I had to pay a $75 fee for transporting an animal—he was really nice about it, but had no choice in the matter.

The man in security let me carry him on my glove through the metal detector while the box went through x-ray. Naturally, this attracted some attention, and we ended up with a small gathering of flight attendants, children, and curious passengers for a bit. But animals are supposed to remain in their carriers at all times in airports, so back Archimedes went into his box.

The two flights didn’t seem to bother him, and we eventually made it home to Duluth. Now he’s adjusting to life here. He’s already been to a couple of my programs, but I’m trying to ease him into this new job. So far he seems to be happy and healthy—he’s certainly eating his thawed out dead mice well. And I’m looking forward to many years of working, and playing, with him.