WILLOWBROOK WILDLIFE PRESERVE IS FOR THE BIRDS & MORE

You were expecting more on Abraham Lincoln, perhaps.  My love affair with the 16th president of the United States is far from over, especially given I live in the Land of Lincoln, but one cannot live on love alone.  Consider today’s post a commercial break, especially from all that
history in which Lincoln was shrouded in my post earlier this week.  In fact, today’s post is as light as a feather. 

That's of course because the place I toured was for the birds, literally. 

This red tailed hawk was still vigilant as ever despite the cage separating our two worlds.

We had a bird’s eye view of at least two dozen fine feathered friends in need of a little R&R. 

Another Forest Preserve site to see in DuPage County, Illinois.

In 1956, private land owners deeded Willowbrook to the DuPage County Forest Preserve, a native wildlife rehabilitation facility that provides care and medical treatment for injured and orphaned wild animals.  

If the DuPage County Forest Preserve sounds familiar, you get brownie points (on second thought, let’s make it a cupcake!) for being a loyal follower.  You undoubtedly remember  Peabody’s Mayslake Estate in Oakbrook, Illinois; Francis Stuyvesant Peabody.  His estate was shrouded in enough history and mystery to make his life during America’s Gilded Age quite  interesting, to say the least.  
 
At Willowbrook Wildlife Center (so renamed in 1981), it’s life via the gilded cage

It's a room with a view at least for this barred owl sitting in the upper right corner of the cage.

for all manner of fowl, at least until they can get back on their feet and fly the coop for the lucky ones.  As birds of prey, they had no trouble keeping their eye on Diane and me.

Hey, you with the camera! I have my eagle eye on you.

This great horned owl seems to be asking, Whoooo are you two?

Does this turkey vulture's head look small to you?

You were expecting Jimmy, perhaps.  I know; I miss him too.  It’s just not the same, roaming the Land of Lincoln without him, but Diane does the good-friend thing so well, and she likes feeding my wanderlust.  And we always do lunch, which is such a fun girl thing.  

Renovations to our basement since the flood are coming along nicely, so there’s hope yet when it comes to seeing more of Jimmy, soon.  I doubt he’ll blow off our trip to Ireland at the end of June. 

We're down to bare bones in the basement.

Jimmy sends his regards, though.  Don’t worry; he’s all bark and no bite. 

Jimmy tried to save the furnace after the flood; it was not meant to be.

It was pretty much the same for this red fox at Willowbrook, although given the cage separating our two worlds he was no bark and no bite.  It was much worse than a flooded basement; he lost a leg, and ultimately his freedom given there was no way he’d survive in the wild up against his four-legged friends.  

It's a life of leisure for this foxy fella.

It was a beautiful May day for being outdoors, even if for some it meant viewing that day from the inside of a cage; of course, easy for me to say from my vantage point outside the cage.  How soon till old, old age relegates me to being a prisoner in my own home, to waiting for someone to find the time to come by and change the landscape of my now incredibly small world.  

Diane leans in to get the most out of her Willowbrook experience.

Sorry, that was my guilt getting the upper hand when it comes to my 88-year-old father.  He lives thousands of miles away in central Florida, a prisoner in his own home.  Oh, he can run around town taking care of errands, but his days of hopping in the car (a favorite pastime of his), free as a bird, and roaming as far from home as his little heart desires and his  54-miles-to-the-gallon-hybrid Prius (no gloating, mind you) would take him on a tank of gas (maybe two) are now behind him.  Perish the thought! 
 
It was actually all I could think about as Diane and I toured the grounds of Willowbrook; life reduced to a shadow of its original intent.  Is it still a life worth living?  My father speaks often of quality versus quantity as it becomes more and more apparent that his individual body parts each have a different shelf life.    
 
This bobcat didn't seem too worried about her shelf life. Her blurred vision now makes living in  the wild nearly impossible, at least if this feline wants to eat.  Is the alternative really living?   Whose interests are we serving?  Is she cognizant of a life before the head trauma? Does she  miss her former life?  Is that what separates man from beast, all these questions; memory rather than instinct? 

Isn't she cute! She could stand to have a manicure, but then who am I to point with my nubby nails?

Sorry, I don’t have any answers; just a lot of questions.  Remember, homebound as I am to all
things Illinois while the basement gets a new life, I’ve had plenty of time to think about life’s burning questions.  Of course, from time to time I think, too, about where my next cupcake is coming from, how to lose the same twenty pounds (perhaps fewer cupcakes!), and when Jimmy’s obsession with all things basement will die a natural death.   Talk about feeling like a caged animal!

This girl is never getting out. Fortunately, I'm not there yet!

All quality-of-life dilemmas aside, the folks at Willowbrook in Glen Ellyn, Illinois are really wonderful.  

Looks like they're all very organized, too.

It’s obvious the vets, the volunteers, the staff; they’re not mired in the sticky issues my mind and advanced years perpetuate.  They were all so friendly!  They’re all about living in harmony with local wildlife and preserving that wildlife, no questions asked.  

I admire their ability to stick to the game plan, regardless of what life throws us. Aren't we all handicapped, one way or the other; lost limbs, broken hearts; aged, infirmed.  Does that mean the end of life?  It means the beginning of a different life for the animals at Willowbrook.  I don't think they know they're handicapped.  I don't think it matters to either man or beast at Willowbrook.

This demure barred owl has vision problems that now make life in the wild difficult.

I wonder if this guy ever feels like he gets pigeon holed from time to time.

Don't you think this cedar waxwing looks wise as well as dashing?

I bet punk rock is this Bluejay's favorite music.

Yay for the Baltimore Orioles!

I think I found a few answers to some of the big questions after all. 

I know seeing life and all her beautiful, colorful characters the day Diane and I visited Willowbrook Wildlife Preserve  helped clear my mind of any confusion when it comes to the sanctity of life, whatever the circumstances.  Thank you Willowbrook; and thank you Diane for the wonderful company!      

No, no, no, this is not Diane! This is a sandhill crane looking me in the eye. Diane's about 10 pics back.