Laura Erickson's For the Birds

Early last winter, a red screech-owl appeared at the Milwaukee Humane Society, emaciated and missing an eye. They treated the injury but because of the monocular vision, they couldn’t release the little creature back into the wild. Meanwhile, 450 miles away in Duluth, I have been searching for an unreleasable owl to use for education. One of my rehabber friends told me about the humane society bird and we realized we had a perfect match. The trick was slicing through bureaucratic red tape in order for me to get a license to keep her.

Owls and other native birds are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. To keep one for educational or research purposes requires both state and federal licenses. You need the federal license in order to begin the process of applying for the state license, so I sent in my request back in January. I have no idea what took so long, but it finally came through the first of June. Then I made a lot of long distance phone calls and filled out a lot of paperwork, and the state license came through last Thursday, and I drove to Milwaukee to get the owl.

Milwaukee is over 400 miles from Duluth. I decided to go to Chicago to stay overnight with relatives, and to get to Milwaukee first thing on Friday morning. My little owl was in a cage, eyelid closed on the missing eye, remaining eye watching me warily. It’s been stuck in a cage since December, with no attention except for daily feeding and cage cleaning, so wasn’t accustomed to being handled except for unpleasant medical procedures. The head of the wildlife rehab department pulled it out with gloves, popped it into my pet carrier, and I was the official owner of a screech owl.

My car was roasting—the outside temperature was 89 degrees—so I opened both doors and the windows to cool down the car as much as I could before I put the owl in. Condensation from my air conditioner dropped on my shoes the whole ride. I didn’t know whether I should take to the bird or keep everything quiet, but being a talkative Irish woman, I ended up doing what comes naturally. I could see the owl staring at me through the carrier door, and it didn’t seem to mind a long, one-sided conversation. I decided to name it Puck after the nocturnal sprite in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

As soon as we got home, I put Puck’s carrier in a quet room and fed her a mouse that Hawk Ridge bander Dave Evans had provided. I’m used to big owls that down a whole animal in one big gulp, but Puck prefers biting off chunks—she’s very selective about which parts she eats and which she leaves. I pretty much left her to her own devices to get used to the strange new house.

By Sunday, Puck seemed ready to let out of the carrier. She has a large cage made just for her, but I also wanted her to have a chance for the first time in half a year to spread her wings. So I set her loose in my office. She stayed in the pet carrier for over an hour, peeking through the open door as if it were plenty enough pleasure to finally see her surroundings without cage bars in the way. Finally I reached in and coaxed her to perch on my finger. I didn’t use gloves—I wanted to see what would happen. And what happened is that she sat calmly and looked at my face. I preened her forehead a bit, and she watched me warily , and then less warily. She’s helping me teach a science class to seven fifth grade girls this week, and little by little I’ll get her used to bigger groups. Having an owl is going to make my life interesting. I just hope I can being her as much happiness as she is already bringing me.