One in a series of essays about the author’s volunteer work at the Raptor Woodland Refuge in Bellevue, Nebraska. Links to the others are below.
Savanna, a 21-year-old Swainson’s hawk at the Raptor Woodland Refuge near Omaha, struggled for two weeks with Asper (Aspergillosis), a fungal infection of the respiratory system.
Asper spores sit dormant, like asbestos, in animals, including humans, until their immune systems are compromised. Anti-fungal medication failed Savanna. Nutrient-rich drinks were ineffective. Tender care was useless. Savanna wasted away in front of me.
He peacefully passed last Thursday evening.
During his 21-year-career as an “education” bird, Savanna went on more than 500 events attended by 43,000 participants, mostly students.
A while back, I found Flicka, an American kestrel, dead in the corner of her mew. As a refuge volunteer, it was my worst nightmare. No obvious explanation, just a small body emptied of life.
When you look into a raptor’s eyes, you confront an intelligence vastly alien. While bloody in tooth and claw, it’s as worthy of life as you are. Its life is shorter, and its demise shatters the heart.
El Kinsey, the refuge’s raptor specialist, said it best: “Grief is the price you pay for a life full of love.”
