Update on various fronts:
Feb. 11th, 2007 03:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stillaneWe'll start with the tale of the bird.
I called one of the rescues provided by wonderful people, and they advised me to return the little guy to open water. (The sooner the better, too, because it seems they won't eat in captivity.) Apparently, they've been getting a lot of calls about this particular species of late, specifically their habit of wandering where they aren't supposed to be. They need open water to take off, but they're doppy enough to wind up on ice and not be able to find their way back. Given that they also have the land speed of a drunken tortoise, this is not a healthy combo.
Friday saw me and a 70 year old woman attempting to find a clear patch of creek. Combined with the continued presence of vicodin in my bloodstream, I'm sure we made an interesting pair. We did, finally, find an appropriate zone, and the little beast was released. He didn't go far, though. Our fine feathered friend is still hanging out near the house, and my dad is off to visit him even as we speak. (Seriously, the man's gotten oddly attached. Any day now we're going to find him out there chucking shrimp from the shore and mournfully making duck-ish noises.)
ETA: Then again... The world's smallest avian idiot has now managed one better. Not only did he not fly away to freedom as predicted, he got himself frozen to the ice. Rather than let him become a tiny ducky popsicle, Dad put on the waders and ventured out onto the creek. The grebe is officially back under our roof, pending more information from the nearest rescuers. *sigh* How exactly do I convince them to take a critter which is not injured, just terminally goofy?
Friday saw me and a 70 year old woman attempting to find a clear patch of creek. Combined with the continued presence of vicodin in my bloodstream, I'm sure we made an interesting pair. We did, finally, find an appropriate zone, and the little beast was released. He didn't go far, though. Our fine feathered friend is still hanging out near the house, and my dad is off to visit him even as we speak. (Seriously, the man's gotten oddly attached. Any day now we're going to find him out there chucking shrimp from the shore and mournfully making duck-ish noises.)
ETA: Then again... The world's smallest avian idiot has now managed one better. Not only did he not fly away to freedom as predicted, he got himself frozen to the ice. Rather than let him become a tiny ducky popsicle, Dad put on the waders and ventured out onto the creek. The grebe is officially back under our roof, pending more information from the nearest rescuers. *sigh* How exactly do I convince them to take a critter which is not injured, just terminally goofy?
On the subject of teeth, more wisdom needed.
All of you who've had the grand extraction: how long should the pain continue to be fairly intense? I thought I was doing pretty good circa Thursday, but then not so much. I'm not sure whether I'm just being a huge baby about it, or if there's really something funky going on. I'm usually pretty good with pain - my knees dislocate of their own accord a couple times a year, and I snap them back in routinely - and I don't have a fever or any other obvious infection symptoms, just a persistent ache. My surgeon is flying below the radar over the weekend, and I need to start work tomorrow. Should I be planning a visit to him anyway? Is it normal to still be pretty sore five days latter? Am I the biggest wimp since wimpdom began?
Any and all advice is welcome, be it on the bird or the mouth.
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Date: 2007-02-12 09:41 pm (UTC)The bird seems to have taken up semi-permanent residence in a corner of the living room. Mom's venturing out to seek palatable sustenance for him, since a conference with California sister informed us that he ought to like worms of certain varieties. The plan is currently to put him back when the creek has ceased to be a frozen wasteland. No word from the rescue that we talked to before; I think they've written us off as wackos.
As for the mouth... turns out going back to the medical professionals was the way to go. It was... not fun, but on the plus side, there is now a great dearth of pain. Yay for the dearth of pain!