A wing and a prayer

There are, generally, two ways a wild animal can react if it is injured and a human is trying to catch it to render aid. One, FREAK THE HECK OUT bitingyoubitingyoubitingyou. Two, a fatalistic resignation to (assumed) death. "I only wish I could see once more my comrades in la Résistance" (gazes Frenchly into the sky)

Then. There's whatever the hell Susan has going on.

Susan was found walk-hopping across the yard down at Home Farm, one wing injured. She chose to achieve a moderate wing injury in the yard of the only person within MILES who is actually a falconer, with all sorts of large bird equipment and medical experience.

She tried to hop away from Roommate, but as soon as he netted her she just. Settled down. I'm sure that being very, very hungry and then being fed and comfortably full made a difference. However, her ridiculous tameness is highly unusual. She's cool with the jesses. She's cool with her perch. She's VERY cool with getting fed the wild game that Roommate hunted to feed his Harris Hawk, Xerces. When the kids made themselves a big pot of Low Country Boil with crawdads from the creek, she happily ate crawdad parts and actually tried to make puppy eyes to get more than her fair share. I mean. Picture the lady above walking across the floor to stare fixedly at you, begging for crawdads. She will carefully take food directly from your palm, like a horse. So. Susan the Gentle, indeed.

By her gradual return to biiiiig wing-stretches and some light flapping, Susan's wing is healing well. She will be able to be released soon. Back to soaring the sky in search of road-kill. Possibly dreaming of crustaceans and Old Bay seasoning.

Meanwhile, I can freak K out by saying, in my scratchiest voice, "Susan friiieeeend! Live with gelflings in Peeeace!"