A Morning Like No Other

We were on our usual morning walk recently along the Salt River near Tempe Town Lake here in Arizona. While heading west, we said “Hello” to the usual group of photographers. I noticed an adult Bald Eagle and a Kestrel on the light poles. But that wasn’t the direction in which the photographers were looking. They were definitely looking toward the big field that used to be the ASU Golf Course. That’s when I noticed it. Over in the field—not at the river—those flapping huge big bluish-gray wings. Not in the air. On the ground. My partner Steve and I kept looking with our binoculars. We kept looking and would notice the flapping again. Then it would stop, flopping on the ground. What was that? Then we saw it again. Something was definitely wrong over there. It was a large bird and it was in some kind of trouble. What was going on? 

I immediately looked for a way over there, Steve right behind me. It dawned on me this might end up being just as painful for me as for the bird if it clawed or pecked me. I couldn’t let that stop me. I had to do what I could to help this poor guy. When we got closer it was a large bird lying motionless on the ground, a Great Blue Heron. It was very clear though that it was all tangled in fishing line. We surmised it tried to use its bill to remove the line wrapped around its legs and ended up getting the line around part of its lower bill and couldn’t move its head. Once we got there, I easily picked it up. It didn’t struggle at all. Steve took it from me once he got there and I was able to then remove the line from its lower bill. But the line and weights were really wound around with a hook in its leg. It was bleeding and immediately apparent we needed to get this poor guy to Liberty Wildlife as quickly as possible. 

We started climbing back out of the field, Steve holding it while I called Liberty Wildlife. We walked back to where we park every morning for our walk while bird watching. I helped Steve and our little guy get into the car and headed to Liberty Wildlife. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long, maybe 15 minutes, even with rush hour traffic. At first our little guy hardly moved. It stayed motionless, its head was still tucked into its wing, but it had its eye open and watching us. Steve very lightly held his beak and feet in case he started squirming, even though, probably from exhaustion and possibly shock, there was no struggle. 

By the time we arrived, Steve noticed it was moving a little more, perhaps more rested from its ordeal. The woman staffing the intake window saw us coming and immediately got up to open the big slider. She took it immediately to the back. When she returned for us to provide her with information she said there were a number of folks already working on our little friend. 

We expect—with some healing time and a lot of tender loving care from Liberty Wildlife folks—this guy will make it and once again be out fishing.