Today, I was fiercely attacked by a hawk. A rough-legged hawk at the wildlife clinic. Jean was going to teach me how to construct a figure eight wing wrap, and I’d been holding the bird’s legs. It had a hood on (Mordecai!) too, and was acting suspiciously relaxed, as it had two days earlier when I held it as she changed the wing wrap. Well, you know when you’re trying to transfer small objects to another person, such as change, and you think they have it so you release your hold, only to find out seconds later that they don’t and the change epically falls to the floor? It was like that, except the change was a hawk’s talon- and plumage-clad feet. Its feet were, for a moment, unimpaired by human restraint, and so it grabbed for something, finally plunging its talons into my right index finger and then my arm. Ouch. It took a while for Jean and me to pry its clasped feet from my arm. I then washed the puncture holes with warm water and a special soap that hopefully flushed out any bad little micro-organisms. I now have no doubts how hawks capture prey successfully. When they close their feet, they do not let go! It’s ridiculous how strong they are.

So, basically it hurt a lot but gave me a wonderful excuse to write up a decently dramatic and totally self-as-hero figure-rolling with the punches-blurb.

I also got to unbandage, clean nasty wounds, and rewrap wings on two gunshot Canada Geese. They were a bit more benevolent to my well-being. There’s a freaking adorable hit-by-car screech owl that clicks its beak in warning when you get too close. It’s like a little feathered rectangular box. Truly precious.

When I got home I consumed food and then set out to check the yard bobcat traps. I heard a canine yelping from the yard. First trap empty, but the second trap contained the source of the cries for help. We caught a boxer puppy! It was adorable. Brindle (the nifty dark brown with black stripes coat) with white markings. Luckily it looked very unthreatening in the trap, and I could tell it was young. I set about trying to figure out how to open the darn trap. I think I was attempting to lift a non-liftable portion of the sliding door. But the dog seriously looked like it was encouraging me, and seemed to know what I was trying to do, expectantly looking at the door, at me, and whining intermittently. Eventually I got it, and the pup burst out of the trap and bounded about in the snow. Luckily it had a collar and a tag, informing me that it lived very near and was known as Toby. Also luckily it seemed very eager to please and followed me back home with a little encouragement. Mum and Tim were getting home as I did, and I announced that we’d caught a boxer as it bounded around the carport to greet them and Snooks. Mum called the owner. That puppy was seriously adorable and very friendly. I petted it until its owner arrived, and I expected an enthusiastic greeting. Instead, it retreated to our doorstep and then to me, settling at my feet and unsure of the best course of action. Its person informed me it was seven months old and he eventually had to grab Toby by the collar and pick him up. I hope he’s not an abusive owner :( Usually dogs can’t wait to be reunited with their owners after such an ordeal.
Concluding statement: I want a dog!

In other injurious news, I now have a mostly nonfunctional right thumb. I don't know how exactly, but I somehow busted a blood vessel. Damn it. I need my thumb.

Tomorrow long-time friends the Elams will be visiting and staying overnight for new year’s. Yay for fun ahead.