Uma Raja

Three injured owls huddle on top of the doorway at Busch Wildlife Sanctuary.

The curved beak of the black vulture juts between the cage bars, scraping the side of my rain boot. I leap backwards as the tiny kite birds flit around, squeaking in alarm, knocking over my bucket. Three baby chicks roll out, blood spewing from their severed heads. Welcome to another day at Busch Wildlife Sanctuary.

I’ve been volunteering at Busch Wildlife Sanctuary for years. In eighth grade I participated in the Junior Naturalist program, a fun volunteering program where kids work with staff.  When I turned 15 I could finally volunteer independently. Located in Jupiter, the rescue facility houses injured animals that range from panthers to alligators. I spend four hours every Sunday hanging out with birds.

At 8 a.m. I grab a bucket and head out to my assigned area. There are numerous places such as Bird Rehab, a wooden building that contains majestic owls with bright orange eyes, angry turkeys, a sassy pelican, a one-eyed falcon and more. There’s also Covered, an outdoor vicinity sheltered by mesh fencing. Wild ibises perch on the top, and within are 14 rooms full of different birds, including turkey vultures, hawks, a grey crowned crane and a talkative bald eagle. There’s also a sandhill crane named Fraser that is allowed to walk outside of his cage. I throw small twigs and the 4 foot tall bird plays fetch with me, spreading his large wingspan and jumping up and down with excitement. There’s a series of rooms called Small Flights which hosts barn owls that dive bomb at your head and northern crested caracara. Not to mention the gigantic, elongated room called Large Flights, which contains approximately twenty eagles, hawks and black vultures. They perch on rods above my head and watch me with their reflective eyes. A bald eagle missing half of her wing hobbles away as a juvenile eagle rapidly flaps his wings and sprints across the room in an attempt to fly.

I stand in the cage with every bird, inches away from them. Most birds just stare at me calmly, minding their own business. Others get frightened and puff up. However, a select few (such as a particular black vulture, the pelican and the turkeys) are not as friendly. I hose down the bird’s cages, spritz and scrub dirty areas with bleach, wash away feces, and pick up feathers, dead mice, fish guts and decapitated chicks. I also prepare food for various animals, such as deer and skunk. I pour live meal worms and frozen crickets into a bowl and weigh raw meat that is full of pink tendons. I also clean flecks of mystery substances off of dishes in a room full of caged raccoons. I play music on my phone as I work and the coons bob their heads to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Busch is never boring, and it’s certainly worth waking up early for. I mean, where else could you find the fossil of a rat skeleton in the trash can? Or open a door and find two upside-down dead hogs with their anuses centimeters from your face? While the job may seem gory, it’s certainly worth it. I know that these injured birds really need help, and that I am truly making a difference in their lives.

Also, there are ways to make the job easier. You can keep the turkeys at bay by leaning the rake against the doorway. They’re scared to get near the rake’s prongs. You can lure the crane back to his cage by leaving a trail of twigs. If birds aren’t scared of the hose, you can stomp your feet and spread your “wings.”  They’ll run away so fast they topple over. Screaming while flapping your wings like a bird is humiliating, but it sure beats getting bitten. Busch is an unforgettable experience, and a grateful little bird told me that it’s worth black vultures gnawing your rain boots.