This is what happens.

This morning, I stopped by the adoption center to drop off one of my foster puppies to be neutered.  On my way out I encountered a well-dressed woman who was knocking on the door with one hand and holding a reusable grocery tote in the other.  The bag was wrapped tightly around what appeared to be a small hawk.  I opened the door and she asked me to please take the bird from her; I tried to explain that I am just a volunteer and could only direct her to the in-house vet or to Carolina Wildlife Rehab, but she ignored me and said, "I have to go to work in ten minutes! I can't take him anywhere!"

The hawk looked like this:

I glanced out at her car and noticed she had a hospital parking sticker. I was tempted to say "Look ma'am, I work at the hospital too... I don't work here.  This isn't my job and I have to go soon too." But I had half an hour, so instead I said (without thinking, as usual), "Well, I suppose I can take it to the vet for you if that's what needs to happen." She thrust the animal into my arms, scurried off to her vehicle and drove away.

I somehow managed to hold this dangerous, beautiful, majestic creature all the way to the vet - keep in mind that my car has a manual transmission.  I'm not sure how I managed this.  I walked in and said good morning to my friend, who is the receptionist there, and she directed me into an exam room and shut the door, at which point the hawk shook free of the towel I had thrown over its head, stepped onto my arm and perched there.

Knowing I was alone in the room, I raised my arm into the classic falconer stance.  I felt pretty cool for a split second... and then I realized that I looked like a complete idiot.  I lowered my arm slowly onto the exam table and the hawk walked down my arm and sat down on my hand. As if it were a tiny nest.

Great.


The vet walked into the room and immediately began to scream.  "Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! It's going to DESTROY YOUR ARM!!!! JESUS CHRIST!"

Until this point, my interaction with the injured animal had been entirely peaceful, even gentle, but in response to the squawks of the flustered veterinarian, it squeezed my thumb a little (with its very sharp talons) and made a small puncture.  It didn't hurt, but after the vet pried the hawk's talons from my captive digit, she urged me to wash out the wound as thoroughly as possible, as these kinds of injuries tend to become infected.  She also told me that for future reference, when dealing with a hawk, to do one of two things:

1) Put it in a box so it doesn't DESTROY YOUR (INSERT BODY PART HERE), RIP OUT YOUR EYES or KILL YOU. (I am actually sure all of these things are entirely possible, but it's much easier to make light of her warnings than it is to admit to my own stupidity in handling the hawk so blithely.)

2) If you don't have a box, grab it by its beak and both legs so that it cannot hurt you. She demonstrated the latter advice, which I thought was pretty brave.  I had no intention of touching any of the hawk's sharp parts and was doing my best to avoid them.

The vet said that she would call wildlife rehab and take care of the rest, and she sent me on my red-faced, shameful way.

A few hours later I received a text message from the manager at the adoption center saying that I did a good job (which made me feel slightly better) and that the hawk had recovered, and was ready to be released into the wild.

Then she asked me if I knew where the animal had been found; hawks live in "bird communities" and should always be released in their home territory, regardless of whether they are juveniles or adults.  Unfortunately, I didn't know... the lady had not given me her name or where she found the bird.  She had only told me that it had "just happened a moment ago."  In light of this (minimal) information, the hawk was released in a residential area adjacent to the adoption center.  I hope it finds its way back to its real, non-hand nest.

I am sad and disappointed in myself that I didn't handle this situation more intelligently.  I didn't take the woman's contact information or get the bird's original location.  I didn't bother to look for a box.  I didn't know how to handle the hawk, I didn't have any help, and I didn't know what I was doing.  I just held the bird in a towel until it escaped and took up residence on my arm... at which point I just stood very, very still.  I've always taken the stance that when dealing with any foreign animal, wild or otherwise, the best you can often do is to try to scare it as little as possible.  So I strive to emanate waves of quiet and calm.  I have to say... it's usually pretty effective.

Sometimes our efforts to do the right thing are not well-informed, and we put ourselves (and/or others) into danger.  But with animal rescue (and with life in general), that's just how it goes sometimes.  Sometimes our hearts take over and we narrowly avoid destruction.  And sometimes we get maimed.

I was lucky. I have a tiny red dot on my thumb.  But with that experience behind me, if I'm ever presented with another bird of prey, bobcat, lynx, or other highly dangerous creature... I'll make sure to find a box.