Raptor Trust and Rehabilitation

Down a side road past a large state park in the village of Millington, New Jersey, there is a small building that looks much like a ranch house, but is the headquarters of the Raptor Trust. The founder and director is a dynamic gentleman named Leonard Soucy. Next door to the headquarters, nestled among the trees, are 50 large cages containing mostly birds of prey, but also some with the lowly pigeon or crow.

Our host did not say much as we strolled among the cages during our lunch break from a hawk association board meeting. He knew he was among people who were very familiar with the hawks, owls and eagles that had to be kept here permanently because of injuries sustained in encounters with human structures and activities.

We admired the still magnificent birds housed here, the beautiful white snowy owls from the Arctic and the even more beautiful albino red-tailed hawk that looked like a delicate fairy from another world. Then there were the eagles, two stately bald eagles, one with only one wing, and then a golden eagle, looking down on us from her perch. She was so close we could feel the steely glint in her eye as she gazed upon us with seeming disdain. The look, the immense size, and the shiny golden hackles on the back of her neck seemed to melt the very fencing between us and she was again queen of the air, surrounded by her loyal ground dwelling subjects.

Then we entered the infirmary, where the real work is done. Here Len held forth, explaining the work done to try to rehabilitate the eight thousand birds that are brought to this place each year. Seven permanent staff and seventy volunteers help him set fractures, relieve concussions, or repair gunshot wounds. About ten per cent of the birds have been found to be shot. This problem is diminishing and is more a product of mistakes by shooters than the fatal antagonism that used to be prevalent.

There is more concern now about the mayhem that is caused by tall buildings and towers as well as moving vehicles. Originally only raptors were accepted for rehabilitation, but Len soon realized he had to accept all birds, the need was so great with absolutely no place else to go. Those who find injured animals show concern for their welfare, but this contrasts starkly with the seeming indifference to the issue of reducing the sources of the damage.

Only a tiny fraction of the birds affected are brought to such places, and if the wounds cannot be healed so as to release them back to the wild, then the victims are "sent to heaven," as Len so quaintly puts it. Dying is not the problem, unknowing or needless hurting is. We can do so much better. Consider the bald eagle.

Two weeks ago Massachusetts Fish & Wildlife held the annual bald eagle census as part of the federal effort to restore the population of our national bird. For fifteen years I have surveyed the Connecticut River from Holyoke to Agawam. Often in those early days no birds were found, but this time there were three adults, one in South Hadley opposite the dinosaur tracks above the Holyoke dam and two below the dam.

When the river freezes, the birds resort to the rapids where open water can provide the fish on which they feed. Even the fact that such prey was there in a river once fouled with poison is a cause for pride. For the first time I sighted two together sitting in one tree within a half mile of the downtown center.

The bald eagle, osprey, and peregrine falcon have all come back, thanks to our determination to correct a wrong we had done. But at the same time our actions have greatly affected three still common raptors, the American kestrel, sharp-shinned hawk, and broad-winged hawk. For different and complex reasons their numbers are steadily declining, and it is clearly our actions as a community that are causing the decline. To right this wrong we need to act as a community as well.