Imagine, if you will:
You’re walking along the road in your hometown when a vehicle goes by and knocks you to the ground. Ow! Your whatsit is hurting bad, maybe broken. You try to get up but, OW, you can’t.
A Strange Person comes to you. You’ve seen these Strange People around, they’re hard to miss, they’re so big. But everyone has told you they’re dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. You try to get away but your broken whatsit keeps you down.
The Strange Person picks you up (they’re big, remember?) and carts you off in one of their vehicles. They take you to a Strange Place where nothing is familiar. You keep asking what’s going on, and who are these Strange People? But you only get responses that sound like gibberish. No one speaks your language.
Another Strange Person looks at you, probes your whatsit (OW!), and puts you in a little room (with walls a really ugly color) where you can do little more than lay there. It’s dimly lit and quiet, and a Strange Person brings you food that’s at least familiar and water. You doze off.
Over the coming days you remain in the little room, resting. A Strange Person brings you food and water regularly, and keeps your little room clean. You keep asking questions and getting gibberish in response. Occasionally another Strange Person checks your whatsit, which is at least starting to feel better.
Eventually the Strange People move you to a larger room, big enough you can get up and walk around some, which seems to be a good idea now that your whatsit is getting better.
After a while, they put you in an even larger room where you can walk and even run a bit. By now you’re feeling like a captive and just want to get away. When they bring food you start demanding answers but no one understands you, and you get more gibberish. The Strange people watch as you run around your enclosure.
One day Strange People come into your enclosure. You try to run away but they catch you and put you in a little box with just enough room to sit. They put you in the back of one of their Strange-Person vehicles.
They take you to some town you’ve never seen before and have no idea where it is. They put your box on the sidewalk, open the door, and step away. Several other Strange People are watching you from a short distance.
Now what? Is this a trick? It looks like most any town you’ve seen, and you still have your wallet and credit cards, so you ought to be able to find food, shelter, and transportation. But is this town safe? Are these other Strange and not-Strange People ok? Or are they going to rob you or run you out of town?
Eventually, as the Strange People stand back patiently, you get out of the box, look around, and head towards a fast-food restaurant.
This is what it has to be like for a wild animal to be rescued by a wildlife rehab.
People who view wildlife releases often ask, why doesn’t the animal just bolt out of the crate and fly/run off? I’ve seen a hawk take 15 minutes before deciding to leave the crate and move off towards the trees. I think the end of that story covers this.
You may ask yourself, since it’s such a bewildering and frustrating experience for the animal, should we even be doing this? Before you answer that, go back to the beginning of this little story, where you hurt your whatsit and couldn’t even get up. Would you want to be left there? Maybe until a bear or coyote finds you, or you get run over by another vehicle? Or would you rather be given a chance to survive, pay rent, and eat cheeseburgers, even at the hands of Strange People?
We, as the Strange People in this story, do this because so many wildlife injuries are caused by humans, and humans have contributed to so much loss of habitat and therefore lives, that it Just Seems Right that we should try to make some sort of amends to heal, mend, and maintain the Natural World that we all ultimately depend on, whether we know it or not.
The above experience is why this needs to be done with expert care and compassion. These animals are going through the worst times of their lives, and need all the consideration we can give them so they can recover, heal their whatsits, and go back to their normal lives, chase prey, have families, and fulfill their obligations to Nature.
Unless you are a licensed wildlife rehabber, you are not an expert. This is why it’s so important to call someone as soon as you suspect a member of the wildlife needs help, without delay. You wouldn’t take a human you found on the roadside home and feed them chicken soup, would you? No, you’d call for expert assistance. Same with wildlife. Hit your favorite search engine with “wildlife rehab” or “wildlife rescue” and to locate a rehab near you. If they can’t help, they’ll get you to someone who can.
Shameless plug: This is what PAWS does. I’ve been doing volunteer work there, and I’ve seen first-hand that care and compassion. And I’m happy to say that I’m a part of it, even if I’m just doing mundane things like pressure washing and hauling supplies. It’s all important work to make this happen.