Just to wrap up on the redtail hawk stuck in the substation...

After my call to the power company, I sat and waited.

Seriously considered parking by the fence and jumping over to get the hawk, but

1) I had no idea how close to some of the equipment a person could get before arcing. And swinging over a metal fence did not seem to be a good place to be when a substation decided to arc.

2) I just got 7 stitches in the groin about three hours ago, and the local anesthetic is starting to wear off.

Tried calling home to let them know I wouldn't make it to the movie. No answer. Apparently they gave up on me. (Actually, no. Found out later that at that moment they were parked on the county road, watching me watch the hawk, trying to get me on the cell phone. But it was busy, of course. So they did go without me.)

Local guy from the power company called a half hour after my call. Ready to head my way, but needed to know if he needed the pole truck to reach up on the powerlines.

Nope. In fact, all I need is the key. The hawk is just sitting on the ground waiting to be rescued.

In fact, if they didn't care, I had bolt cutters and could cut the chain myself, and he could come out later and reset the lock.

He liked that idea! Just don't touch anything above head high.

So I did. Took the cutters and snapped that chain just like in the movies.

Hawk decided to be less cooperative once I got close, throwing his feet (and talons) up in defense. But I've done this before, and he was soon out of the substation. Wings looked okay, so I took him and threw him up into the air.

And he floated back down like a leaf.

Ooops.

So I wired up the substation gate and then gathered up the hawk again. Wings seem to work okay, but there is one small feather near the right allula that has been vaporized, the edges scorched and smelling of burned chicken. The feather below is also singed. So he rode home tucked under my left arm, talons in my left hand. Not a happy camper, beak open and threatening all the way.

All I could think about was that he was probably loaded with lice, and I couldn't take a shower because of the fresh stitches.

As we unload out of the truck, one of our new residents pulls up behind. He is only moderately impressed with the hawk (but did recognize it as an immature redtail), stating he had "rescued" a half dozen in his home state.

Okay, maybe that's true.

Maybe it ain't.

But he wasn't here for the hawk. He came over to show off what he had just collected.

A rattlesnake rattle. Nice size, about ten buttons. Off a broad, large snake.

You could tell he expected me to be pleased he had saved the world from not one, but three of these vermin.

Before they could attack his dog.

You know how this conversation went.

"I like buzz-worms. I don't kill them."

I did not point out the incongruity of "saving" raptors and persecuting snakes. But he was a little chagrined, and wanted to know how he could let his dog run in the country if it is full of rattlers. Where could he go?

Suggested in the mountains above 8,000' or in the desert west of Lost Soldier Divide. There aren't any out there. (Don't know why...best guess is the sandy soils do not provide any place to den up for the winter.)

Maybe he will.

Anyway, the hawk spent the night in the pet carrier and had a nice breakfast of pork cubes (for tonight's chinese dinner). I have wondered how kind it is to feed what is essentially exotic meats to injured raptors. How often is a redtail going to get to eat pork? How often does a kestrel eat elk? (We had one who got to.)

I'm not worried about health effects. Protein is protein. But heelers love pig meat of any sort over anything else. Presumably because of the high fat content. So will this hawk fall in love with pork as well?

Is it doomed to spend the rest of its life hunting the countryside trying to find that delicious prey that it had down here? To be forever disappointed?

Imagine being given Dove dark chocolate once and then never being allowed to have it again.

Or if the hawk figures out where pork comes from, is Nebraska going to have a case of a redtail hawk that goes around attacking pigs?

I have images of some little kestrel going around stooping at elk.

So, after its pork breakfast, the hawk got a ride to Central City and the Audubon rehab folks. Prognosis is good.

Heeler sisters and I took the back roads home. Over the Seminoes (That is not a typo folks. Those mountains are named after a French trapper named Cemineau, not the Seminole tribe.)

There are two highways to the back route, each using a different bridge over the North Platte. We took the lower road, even though it is outside my country and less scenic.

When I started this diary I promised myself I would someday put down my feelings about the upper bridge. And I will. But not today. Today was a good day. Maybe September.

Heelers got in several drag races in the mountains, after a hiatus of almost a month. Could not believe the stressed-out yelps they gave me after the first race. Wild and wild-eyed, with the whites showing.

Maskless heeler tripped in a low spot on one race and slammed her chest and chin into the gravel. Hard enough to scrape and draw blood from the chin. But didn't stop her from accepting another challenge by her sister a minute later down the same road.

Played hide and seek four times, and got found immediately all four times by the masked heeler. Her and her damned nose. Wife asked if I stunk, but I blamed it on the hawk aromas on my jeans.

You know, it is hard to quickly jump over sagebrush or duck under trees when you've got fresh stitches in the nether regions.

Otherwise, no real problem with the stitches.

Except when both heelers leapt into my lap at the McDs drive-up window in Central City.