Oh man, I wish I still worked at the National Audubon Society. Feeding the fledgling predators at the rehab center was a hoot (literally). I’d start playing the parents’ meal calls and every baby bird in the room was at attention: I swear the beaks opened wider than their own heads. When they were full (diced mice and chicks for every meal), they’d knock away the tweezers and fall backwards into a lump of scrawny but pot-bellied fuzzy children and fall asleep. So sweet.
Ralph Dunagin and Dana Summers