PRT-Rescue Part 2

Everyone, meet Bubba (more on that later).  This post is picture intensive because it's been a long time in coming.  I figured I'd wait till I had the whole story before I posted, and a couple of months down the road I now do.Thad came across Bubba at a contractor's compound.  The guards said he'd just appeared and was injured.  It was apparent that he was favoring a leg and had something seriously wrong with one of his wings.  Also, his tail had been clipped so he'd probably been captured and sold at a market here (unfortunately, a fairly common practice here).  So That figured that we could find some way to help it, and brought it to the PRT.

Well, not only do we have a public health section, our docs (US and Iraqi) are quite talented.  Doc Bunning is, well, let's say he likes getting difficult degrees.  Not only is he a human doctor, he's a vet.  As is one of our Iraqi doctors (in case anyone is wondering, public health and disease prevention has a lot to do with things originating in animals that eventually get transferred to people).

Not to divulge any secrets, but PRT-B just happens to be near an x-ray machine.  So the docs checked the "hawk" out and tried to re-set bones and stuff.  So for a bit, the "hawk" bandaged up in blue, became the East Wing's mascot (and yes, we kept a close eye on Snickers whenever he came around our neighborhood - the hawk was about as cautious as the birds in the bird room [they're caged] became when the hawk was set in their room).

The hawk fairly quickly drank from a syringe we would use, and would eat  from our hands after a few days.  Thus, the origin of his name.  We'd thaw Bubba Burgers and feed him; he is a raptor after all.  So folks started calling the hawk Bubba.

Which led to another issue - what the hell kind of hawk was it.  For days the Ag folks and the Docs (vets included) couldn't figure out what kind of hawk Bubba was.  After getting a little tired of their ceaseless arguing over the issue (you'd think they were a bunch of lawyers), I decided to give a shot at figuring out what Bubba is.  I started with telling them, you ever think Bubba might be a kite or a kestrel?  After some grumbling, they said no.  So that evening I went home with a mission - figure out what Bubba was!

I started with Wikipedia's page on the birds of Iraq.  And I started at the top and worked my way down, paying close attention to bird size and coloration.  Patience and perseverance paid off.  My guess, which no one has contested, is that Bubba is a Falco tinnuculus or a Common Kestrel, also known as a European Kestrel, Eurasian Kestrel or an Old World Kestrel.  You can check for yourself here.  Just look at the photograph on the right near the maps, the one that says F. t. tinnuculus.  Blow it up - it's Bubba.  Except that Bubba isn't Bubba, she's Bubbette.  Well, no one took to that name, so Bubba is still Bubba.

As the weeks passed by, Bubba became much more active and appeared much healthier.  PRT life suited her.  Eventually we could not keep her in her box.  She'd simply hop out of it and start hopping around.  We eventually gave up trying to keep her in place, so she started roaming around desks and watching the world go by.  Then we started setting her up on PPE (Personal Protective Equipment - body armor) stands.

As the weeks passed by, we took off her bandage.  No, things didn't heal totally, but she seemed not to mind.  Bubba was happy to not be bound and then really started exploring.  It took her a week or two, but she started moving from her two-cubicle environment and checking out the place.  It quickly became apparent that it was HER Place.

If we weren't going to use our helmets, she was.  So we decided to alter our environment a bit to accommodate her.  Somehow her claws seem much more suited to branches than to helmets.  And more than a few of us came to find out that Bubba didn't distinguish much between branches and fingers - both are round, about the same thickness and meant to be grasped with her talons.  Not a fun feeling.

Starting a couple of weeks ago, Bubba lost all inhibitions.  She started scoping the place out.  Several times a day you'd hear someone yell, "Hey, anyone seen Bubba?"  And someone would respond, "Yeah, she's over here!"  or "Last time I saw her she was on the wall by so-and-so's desk!"  Bubba loved to sit and look out the window, but because our cubicle walls were higher than the window ledge, she'd occasionally fall between the cubicle wall and the wall - not very fun for her.  Still, she was feeling better and that didn't phase her.  So we would walk a bit more gingerly, just in case Bubba was round.  Occasionally she'd find a nice little perch and she'd just sit there for hours - apparently as happy as could be.

Here's Bubba hanging out by the rule of law section on her next to last day at the PRT.  She found herself a nice secluded corner and decided to hang around for the last few hours of the day.  We didn't mind.

The next day, on a mission to the Baghdad Zoo for other purposes, the PRT delivered Bubba to the zoo.  They promised to take care of her, perform surgery to fix her wing and her leg, and said they thought she'd fly again.  Either way, they'll keep her for everyone else in Baghad to enjoy.  We miss her already.