Portent of Doom

[endlessrarities]

I returned from an awful bike ride (20 miles in Baltic cold, and I'm SO unfit), to find a miserable finch (juvy greenfinch or siskin, not sure) sitting on the lawn.  It looked fluffed up and lethargic, so the warning bells rang for finch virus.

Unfortunately, it was still too lively for me to capture it and escort it to Certain Doom at the Hessilhead wildlife sanctuary.  I've just been outside to have a look for it in the gloaming, but the poor little thing has obviously moved on.

We need some heavy frosts, and we need them soon, or else this regular pestilence will raise its ugly head and this blog is going to degenerate into a miserable catalogue of disaster detailing the demise of a succession of greenfinches/chaffinches/pigeons/collared doves [delete as appropriate].

And of course the debate continues.  To feed, or not to feed?  If I keep feeding the birds when finch virus has been confirmed amongst my flock, then the disease is going to spread amongst healthy birds.  But...  If I stop feeding them, they'll just disperse and contaminate other gardens and the disease will spread just the same.  It's a Catch-22 situation which I've never really found a satisfactory answer for, and which no-one seems to agree on.

Last year, I spotted two potential cases, and they vanished before I could catch them and take them away for a firm diagnosis.  Then came the cold snap.  Frosts and arctic temperatures wrecked the garden, but it did wonders for the finches.  I think I'd opt for that, rather than endless mild, windy wet disgusting weather which sends the finch casualties rocketing.

Comments

[gylfinir.livejournal.com]

I'd never heard about finch virus; what are the symptoms that I should be looking out for?

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

I've pasted in a link to an old Times article that gives quite a good rundown:-

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article637452.ece

If it doesn't work, then you should be looking for fluffed up sluggish birds that have difficulty eating. They drop bits of food and dribble, contaminating the feeding area. In the advanced stages, they're reluctant to fly and fairly easy to catch.

I believe the croup becomes stuffed up with a hard cheese-like substance which makes it impossible for the poor things to swallow, and they starve to death. Sadly, with finches there is no cure.

The disease was once confined to pigeons and birds of prey (presumably, the raptors preyed on the pigeons and caught the disease) but it made the jump to finches in Ayrshire a decade or so back. I can't help wondering if it's because massive numbers of feral pigeons 'graze' around the feeders, and from there they infect the finches.

One thing which helps combat it is to pay scrupulous attention to hygiene, cleaning feeders with Arklens or similar and changing location on a regular basis. Our problem is that our feeder hangs over the lawn, so it's not really possible to disinfect it properly.

The good news is that the virus can't survive in dry weather or sub-zero temperatures.

[puddleshark.livejournal.com]

I think we may have had an outbreak here about three years ago, when the greenfinches vanished from the garden altogether. They returned last year, and are now back to previous numbers. But I suppose the recovery was due to weather conditions not suiting the virus, rather than the birds developing immunity, so fingers crossed for some sharp frosts...

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

It's good their numbers have recovered so quickly. 2006 was evidently a bad year for it. We had nine recorded casualties. I felt like a plague doctor in 1660s London...

[roaming.livejournal.com]

it's so hard caring for the wild things. Their lives are normally "short, nasty, and brutish." :-

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

It is difficult. And all I can offer them in this instance is a quick end, which makes it worse.

[roaming.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure I could do that. I mean, sure, I'd want to end their suffering, but I wouldn't be sanguine I'd be sure-handed enough.

Last year I came across a possum hit by a car in the middle of the road near my house. It's guts were burst out, but it was still alive, and unsuccessfully scrabbling with front feet trying to move to cover. I put on my hazard blinkers, placed my car in front of it so more cars would not run it over -- and got a lot of cursing and honking at me for it, despite there being PLENTY of room to go around me on the road -- put a box over it to shield it, and called Animal Control. Got a recording. They never showed up. All I could so is scoop the poor thing into the box and put it by the side of the road, knowing full well it's injuries were fatal, and hope it went into unconscious shock soon enough.

An LJ friend of mine who works at the Franklin Zoo tells me he carries a very heavy shovel in his car just for such roadside accidents, so he can swiftly dispatch with a blow to the head. I wonder if I could. :-<

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

Oh, I can't do it myself. I kind of wish I could, but... I think there'd be times where I'd make the wrong decision. All I can do is take it the people who can despatch them quickly and efficiently. With finch virus, I know they won't make any efforts to try and save them.

I tried to hit an injured vole with a shovel once. It had been attacked by our stable cats and I stood over it, poised, trying to pluck up the courage. In the intervening time, it recovered and ran away! Ever since, I've not been convinced by my own judgement.

That's a horrible tale about the possum. I've experienced similar with frogs. I was on a job a few years back where a hedgerow was getting ripped up. There were dead frogs and toads, hideously injured frogs and toads, and all sorts. It was horrific.

[roaming.livejournal.com]

Do you know Maddy Prior (singer)?

My fav cd of hers is YEAR. A very haunting song on it is The Fabled Hare,. Your storry of the hedgerow makes me think of it, as these lyrics gives me shivers, sums up the struggle between wild things and industrialization/man's disregard:

Man sprays no weeds
The scythe cuts, the corn bleeds
Leverets trapped in a harvest blade
'Tis the time of man, the hare said

Here's the tractor, here's the plough
And where shall we go now
We'll lie in forms as still as the dead
In the open fields, the hare said

No cover but the camouflage
From the winter's wild and bitter rage
All our defence is in our legs
We run like the wind, the hare said

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

My parents were big fans of Steeleye Span, but I'm not familiar with that particular track. Thanks for sharing.

It makes me think of a horrific wildlife documentary I saw about corncrakes. They're a bird which sits tight in the middle of a hay meadow during harvesting, and end up getting cut to bits by the combines. They showed footage of corncrakes with their wings hanging off and stuff.

There's since been a new initiative which encourages farmers to harvest their hay meadows outwards, leaving the edges intact so the corncrakes have a refuge. End result - corncrake numbers have soared in the Scottish islands! I actually managed to see one on Iona, which is a great privilige, as they're really secretive. You can hear them all the time, but spotting them's a different matter.