Good Natured: Icarus the Red-Tailed Hawk Recovers

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“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

I'll bet you've heard this saying a time or two. In fact you might even be familiar with the spicier version, “Making chicken salad out of chicken…" er, droppings.

Both phrases have been part of our vernacular for a century or more, with one or the other being employed—sometimes in conjunction with their close cousin, the cloud with the silver lining—when the going gets tough. And while they certainly capture the essence of having a positive mental attitude, some would say they've become, well, trite.

That's why today folks I'm here to tell you there's a new phrase, one that's so full of optimism, so positively dripping with cheer, it's bound to have even the gloomiest Guses putting on their rose-colored glasses.

Are ya ready?

Here it is: “Rise like a redtail from a landfill."

Rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?

Now before you go adopting this saying as your personal catchphrase, injecting it at opportune moments (like when you find a polyphemus caterpillar when you're out looking for butternut trees, and yes you'll be hearing more about this in a future column), it might be helpful to know a little bit about its origins.

It's actually a newly minted, Good Natured exclusive. Which is fancy talk for I made it up. But still…

Unlike the lemonade or the chicken salad, or the silvery cloud, the redtail in this soon-to-be-popular saying lives right here in our own backyards. If you're a Good Natured regular, you might remember him… He made the unfortunate decision to land on a landfill gas flare--an exhaust pipe that burns off the methane produced as organic materials in a landfill decompose. Could the lemons get any more sour?

Yes, actually, they could, and did. Feathers flaming, the bird flew away from the landfill toward a nearby road, where he promptly smacked into a passing truck. As devastating as it sounds though, this second calamity turned out to be the beginning of this bird's amazing comeback.

Had he flown in any other direction, he would have landed in obscurity and likely succumbed to his injuries. But by crashing into that vehicle, in dramatic and fiery fashion, he changed the course of his fate. The driver stopped, summoned help, and in short order, the hawk was making its way to St. Charles and Kane Area Rehabilitation and Education for Wildlife, or KARE for short. There he was dubbed Icarus, after the character in Greek mythology who was given the gift of wings but then flew too close to the sun.

Do you know what burned hair smells like? Burned feathers smell even worse.

As KARE Director Vicki Weiland recalls, “Icarus was still smelly, burnt when we got him. Every feather was either singed or burnt. His feet were burnt."

Thankfully though, the feathers took the brunt of the damage. Other than the feet—which are covered with scales called podothecae that are much thicker than the rest of the epidermis, or skin—the bird's body was in pretty good shape.

What he was going to need was time—lots of it—and care. Lots of that too. Vicki and her staff of volunteers spent over a year tending to Icarus's needs, making sure he received daily care, veterinary visits as needed and of course food in the form of frozen and thawed rodents.

All told, it took 13 months and about $1800 to get Icarus up and flying again. But fly he did!

I had the good fortune to attend Icarus's release a few weeks ago, and couldn't get over the transformation that had occurred.

When I met him and John Papach, a falconer in charge of his care, last spring, Icarus was having one of many bad feather days. Most were just bare shafts, and the ones that were intact were ruffled.

Over the summer though, he molted those bad feathers, one at a time, and in their place grew brand-new primaries and secondaries, or wing feathers, and a whole new set of cinnamon-hued rectrices—his namesake red tail feathers.

On release day, September 25, Icarus was raring to go. Spirited and feisty, he was a magnificent sight to see. Within minutes of being removed from his transport crate he was winging his way to a tree 100 feet away. There he landed, took stock of his surroundings, and began preening his feathers. Had I not known his story, I'd have figured him for a regular ol' redtail, out enjoying the day.

But I, and now you, know this beautiful bird's story. He's made his lemonade and chicken salad and today is rising toward the clouds—every one of them with a silver lining--like a redtail from a landfill.

Icarus is flying free, but KARE still has many other raptors in various stages of rehabilitation. Readers who'd like to donate toward their care  may do so at KARE's Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/KAREforWildlife

Pam Otto is the outreach ambassador for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org.