Mystery Of The Dazed Kestrel

Picture of a kestrel, from Wikipedia.


Per usual custom, I arrived at work late this morning (18th & J Streets in Sacramento), parked my car, and went around to the back of the car to open the trunk and retrieve my briefcase. Just then, I heard a distinct *thump* behind me.

Looking around, everything seemed normal, except for what looked like a bit of refuse on the pavement: like a feathered piece of wood lying just outside the parking lot fence, by my employer's back door. It looked like an American Indian in ceremonial regalia had tossed away a small, feathered pipe, or something.

Approaching, I realized it was a small hunting bird, in some kind of agony. Its back was arched, as if in pain. It was conscious, and breathing, and evidently alarmed by my approach. At first, I had trouble seeing its claws, but that was because they were partly-curled. I thought, "It's a kestrel!" I started cooing to it, hoping to ease its tension.

What happened? Apparently it had either flown into the building itself (confused by the lighting off the reflective exterior tile?), bounced off the side windows of the building (once again, confused lighting on the windows?), or had flown into the canopy over the back door. Or perhaps it had toppled off a perch on the building above the back door, onto the canopy, and onto the pavement. Whatever happened, it was quite an irregular event for a bird like this.

Not wanting to touch the bird, in the event it had West Nile virus, and out of an desire not the frighten it too much, and also because an injured hunting bird can inflict a variety of injuries from its claws and beak, I started calling the Wildlife Care Association on my cell phone.

After about two minutes, the frightened bird noticed I was distracted, rolled over, and flew away. It seemed to fly true and straight, so whatever impact it had endured was not immediately mortal.

I related the experience to several of my co-workers. Craig thought it was an omen of the impending Mayan Apocalypse this Friday. Gabe said "One in the hand is worth two in the bush!" Candy said the bird had too much Egg Nog (she didn't like the Apocalypse idea, and preferred to think positive).

[UPDATE: The fellow from the Wildlife Care Association called back after listening to my taped message. He said this sort of thing can happen. Birds from the foothills come into the valley for the winter, and perhaps this bird lacked city experience.]