Injured Sea Gull Rescued

The cold, northwest winds blew strong all day today and are blowing even stronger tonight with a light dusting of snow accompanying the winds. It’s certainly not a good day for the animals much less an injured one.

Keith and I stopped at the Walmart to pick up some canned dog food for Thistle. The Ol' Roy canned food is the best and it’s the only reason we stop at Walmart. I parked the car at the door so Keith could run in and get a few cans.

Keith started towards the door and then turned around to come back to the car. He opened the door and, before he said anything, I said, “You’re slick. You forgot your wallet again.” (That is a joke between us. He always forgets his wallet and I end up paying for everything.)

“No. There’s an injured sea gull in the cart and it’s still alive.” Keith’s eyes and tone of voice conveyed a helpless, please-do-something plea.

I got out of the car to take a look at it. Its wing was inverted and sticking up over its head like a sail on a sailboat. Blood stained its breast and wing. I returned to the car figuring there wasn’t anything I could do to help the poor bird.

As I sat in the car, people walked by, glanced at the bird, and kept going. Every couple of minutes, a blustery gust of wind would blow, catching the bird’s wing and pushing it further in an inverted position.

I couldn’t leave the sea gull there to die a slow, painful death.

I parked the car and headed towards the Walmart doors. Keith was coming out of the store. “It’s up to you, Keith, but that poor bird will suffer out here. If you want to accept the responsibility, we can take it home where it will at least die in comfort. I just need to run in the store and get a wound cleaner and an eyedropper so I can feed the bird if it’s too weak to eat on its own.”

Keith’s a lot like me when it comes to injured animals. We’d rather take them home and try to nurse them back to health, but if they die, at least they die peacefully. It happened to a baby rabbit we rescued out of the middle of the road last fall. A cat was playing with it so we scooped it up and took it home. It lived until the next morning, but its internal injuries were too severe and it died.

We figure the sea gull won’t last through the night. Its wing is broken with a bone protruding out. Our guess is a car in the parking lot hit it. At least someone had the decency to place it in the shopping cart.

We got it home. I picked it up to clean its wounds. Instinctively, the gull latched onto my finger with its beak. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt so I let it hold on. I tried to give it water through the eyedropper, but it attacked the dropper instead. I managed to get it to drink some water, though.

We went outside and collected some soft grass and made a nest for it in a big box. I placed the gull in the box and left it alone to calm down. After our dinner, I soaked a slice of whole grain bread in water and took it to the bird. With the eyedropper, I tried to feed it.

Once again, it attacked the dropper. After a few tries, it realized there was food in the dropper. It took the water-bread mixture eagerly. I decided to upgrade to a spoon. At first, it attacked the spoon, but then realized it had food on it, too. It didn’t eat much, but at least it got a little bit of nourishment and water. In about another hour, I’ll try to feed it bits of sardines since it seems to have enough energy to eat whole food.

We called a couple of vets’ emergency numbers. They all referred me to one number who knew absolutely nothing about what we should do. The best they could do is suggest we take it to a bird sanctuary in Princess Anne, but they didn’t know the number to call. It’s not listed, either.

Tomorrow, Keith will ask the nurse at his work for suggestions on how to set the bird’s wing so that the bone will at least be back inside where it belongs. It may never fly again, but at least the bone won’t be exposed and risk a severe infection.

If it makes it through the night, Keith decided to name it Stella. We hope Stella makes it, and even if she never flies again, she’ll have a safe home here. And if she doesn’t make it, at least she’ll die peacefully in a warm house on a nice bedding of soft grass.

If she makes it, I need to get Stella to a vet. Maybe I’ll find one tomorrow who will set her wing for a minimal charge. We really can’t afford an expensive bill, but we can’t let Stella suffer, either. If anyone reading this knows what we should do, please leave a suggestion.


© 2006
Mark Darien
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