Liberty Wildlife works to preserve wild birds

The mountains wrapping Cave Creek glow orange in the twilight. The skies above are already cobalt blue as the crowd gathers at the Spur Cross trailhead. Most are amateur astronomers, here to eye the heavens. But JoAnne Mayer and Peggy Cole are volunteers with Liberty Wildlife, and their purpose resides in their twin cardboard carryalls.

"Owls," Cole chuckles, holding hers aloft. "Owls to go." In a few minutes, the sun will set. And the two juvenile barn owls that clunk unseen in their containers will be released into the night sky. "We'll ask the crowd to say a quick prayer as they go," Mayer says. "To give them luck."

They've been lucky already. One was discovered as an egg, as a hay truck unloaded at a farm. The other, a hatchling, fell out of an ill-trimmed palm tree. Both are here by virtue of Liberty Wildlife, a Scottsdale-based nonprofit dedicated to the preservation of wild birds.

HATCHING A DREAM

"We're kind of bursting at the seams, as you can see," Operations Director Terry Stevens says.

It's Tuesday morning. A volunteer, armed with eye droppers and seeds, works Liberty Wildlife's nursery, feeding each peeping chick in the incubators stacked like library books.

"It's kind of like painting the Golden Gate Bridge," Stevens chuckles. "Once you get to the end, it's time to start at the beginning again."

Walls of caged, rehabilitating birds separate the nursery from their Care Room, where medically trained volunteers work on injured birds.

"We get five types of injuries: electrocutions from power lines and poles; gunshots; car collisions; wind collisions; and poisonings. Our release rate hovers around 50 percent, way better than the national average."

A bobbing, hawk-nosed bird appears to listen as Stevens talks. "A kestrel," he explains. "We (rehabilitated) him, but he totally imprinted on humans. So, we keep him as an education bird."

Liberty Wildlife was founded in 1981 by Kathy Orr, an avian veterinarian who opened up part of her home when she had nowhere to nurse an injured bird. "That first year, we took in 85 birds," Stevens says. "This year, so far, over 3,100."

Calls and squawks of every variety fill the yard where owls, hawks, kestrels, ravens, eagles, herons, and others rehab in spacious wooden pens. Hogan, a female great horned owl, puffs up in fierce indignation when an observer eyes the chicks in her enclosure.

"Hogan is one of our success stories," Executive Director Megan Mosby says. "We work hard not to 'imprint' birds. They can't see us touching them, or feeding them, if they're to return to the wild."

A variety of disguises are employed to minimize exposure to humans. But about 10 years ago, Liberty tried using retired education birds, like Hogan, as foster parents.

"It worked out wonderfully," Mosby says. "Hogan, for instance, feeds and protects the chicks like her own. This year, she's fostered about 70 baby owls."

The steady rise in injured birds can be attributed to the continued development of desert habitats. But Mosby hopes at least part of it comes from increased awareness.

"People know that we're out here," she says. "They've learned about our programs, and know you can bring an injured bird here for help."

Liberty Wildlife's Educational Outreach program brings live birds and conservation talks to more than 400 school and social groups each year, and they work with Salt River Project and Arizona Public Service to help prevent power pole electrocutions.

"We train linemen what to do when they come across a nest," Stevens says. The companies also put insulating hoods on power poles in raptor areas. "The best rescues are the ones you never have to do."

TAKING WING

Increasing demand and expanded programming have pushed Liberty Wildlife to the edge of its own nest. Within a year, they hope to move to a new building, adjacent to the Phoenix Zoo in Papago Park.

"We're in the process of getting (city) permits, and our capital campaign continues to raise money," Mosby explains. "But the new building will give us more room for rescue work, and a central location for outreach and educational programs."

These birds must be seen, and appreciated, she says, if they are to survive. "One day, a man brought in a great horned owl that was breathing its last. We asked how it was injured and he said, 'I shot it.' As we tried to revive it, he said, 'I never would have done it if I'd known how beautiful it was.' "

Back at Spur Cross, the juvenile barn owls weigh almost nothing as the handler lifts them from their box. Their white bodies and heart-shaped faces draw gasps from the crowd as they are raised to the night sky.

Captive all its life, one owl still flashes its wings at the sight of the horizon, then looks back at its handler, impatient to go.

The group pauses the length of a prayer. Then both owls bolt from handlers and only a soft flapping to be heard as they disappear to the red-rimmed West.

"It's always special when we do this," Cole says. "I've done this so many times, and it doesn't get old. It is special every time."

For more information

To learn more about Liberty Wildlife, its educational programs and volunteer opportunities, visit their Web site at www.libertywildlife.org. If you have a sick or injured bird, call their hot line: (480) 998-5550.