It’s time to look back on 2023! Check our blog between Christmas and New Year’s for a variety of stories and memories of 2023 from the staff and volunteers of the Wildlife Center of Virginia.
I had only driven down this road once before, and this was almost certainly the last time I would ever be on it again. I winced with every thud and flutter I heard coming from the large cardboard box in my trunk, as the Great Horned Owl inside had at that point come way too far just to end up concussed inside the back of a Subaru. It was a nerve-wracking mile-long stretch of gravel going at a rate of 20 mph. But we inevitably arrived in one piece at the house that neither of us had seen in almost a year and seven months.
I was the one who plucked this owl from the ground after it was found injured by the family who owns the property, back in February 2022. I was grateful to be in a position to do so, although a Great Horned Owl would not have been my first choice to test out my new handling gloves. I took the bird home, put it in my basement, and then brought it to work with me the next morning. But I really didn’t have anything to do with the owl’s recovery and rehabilitation over the ensuing 560 or so days that it spent at the Wildlife Center. That was the work of our vet and rehab staff, people I would never be brave enough to swap occupations with.
I would check in now and then on the owl’s progress, which was almost always some variation of “not much”. It was definitely not the longest-tenured patient in WCV history—or even from that year—by any means, but the slow, stagnant recovery process of this bird was frustrating for all involved. I can’t imagine how mad the owl must have been. Eventually, I elected to take the “no news is good news” approach.
Until there was actually good news.
The turnaround for a healthy bird to get released back into the wild once cleared is quick, so it was only within a couple of days of hearing that the bird was even close to release that I was already packing it into my car to hit the road to Charlottesville. I say Charlottesville, but it’s really a beautiful area of Albemarle County south of the city, where very suddenly you’re no longer on Route 29 but winding lazily through large open meadows flanked by forested areas that hush the highway nearby. At the right time of year, it would probably feel like you were on a safari through the Shire. This owl had very good taste in habitat. I surprised myself by how clearly I remembered everything from the last time I was there, and how it even seemed like the exact same time of the evening.
It was only a few short minutes after our arrival that I took the box out of my car and opened it a few dozen yards away. After all that, the owl flew away beautifully and silently and it was over. I was proud to have played my small role in the effort, and I drove away just as I had before into the dusk.
There are the obvious reasons why this memory sticks out from the past year: the happy success story of perseverance and teamwork, of course. But after an incredibly busy and often stressful season at the Wildlife Center this year, I think what I needed more was a reminder to better appreciate and cherish these victories. I hadn’t given enough credence to how much the initial rescue of this owl stood out in my memory, and, I suppose, my heart. If you arrive somewhere a year and a half after you had only been there once before and it feels like you were there just yesterday, that’s when you know it’s an important moment in your life.
I like to think that the owl is thriving in what really is an ideal habitat for their species, and maybe is actually begrudgingly grateful for the care it received—although it would never admit it. I think we both would prefer not to see each other again, but maybe for different reasons. But speaking directly to the owl now, I hope you’re doing okay out there, friend.
–Michael Adkins, Front Desk Supervisor