It’s a common expression: let nature takes its course – and we learn it while we ‘re young. It can be used in many ways, but in the end, what it always means is that the best outcome can be achieved by doing nothing – that left alone, the inevitable outcome is the preferred outcome.
As wildlife rehabilitators, we hear this expression every day.
Two months ago, a man called from somewhere out Highway 36 – he’d found a fawn by the side of the road with a dead doe, presumably the fawn’s mother, most likely hit by a vehicle. The caller had already talked to a local government agent to find help. “The ranger said it would be better to let nature take it’s course,” he said, “but I couldn’t just leave the little guy there. Will you take him?”
Of course we would. And we did.
The fawn is doing well, is now being weaned from a bottle to foraging for greens, in the company of other fawns, untamed. If all continues to go well, he will soon be released back into a wild herd.
Two weeks ago we released an Osprey who’d been hit by a vehicle and picked up from the shoulder of a two-lane blacktop that skirts the western edge of Lassen National Park. The woman who found the bird talked to an employee at a park information booth who told her the best thing she could do was put the grounded bird back and, yes, let nature take its course. She said she couldn’t do that, so the employee found her a box and gave her a phone number for a veterinarian in Redding. When she got to Redding, the veterinary clinic wasn’t open (nor were they permitted to treat wildlife).
So she found us on the internet. Since she was already headed to the coast she was able to bring the Osprey to our clinic. It took all day, but eventually we had the bird in care. While in relatively good shape with no external injuries, the Osprey was slow to respond, seeming dazed. Within a couple days, however, in the safety of our clinic, the plunge-diving raptor regained his wits and was flying well and in a very dissatisfied mood.
As soon as he was ready, our staff took him on the 5 hour drive back to Lassen, back to his lake next to the volcano. He needed nothing more than some time in care – a safe haven where food and safety are provided.
If you put the Osprey back on the side of the road and “let nature take its course” – disoriented and grounded by his collision with a vehicle – it’s predictable that the Osprey will die. With no treatment, who knows how long it will take for him to recover his wits, if ever – and with no food or water, his slow decline gathers momentum until he’s too weak to seek shelter, let alone regain his ability to meet his own needs. Another car, another predator, or a slow death by dehydration is as certain as night follows day.
If you provide care – hydration, food, anti-inflammatory medicine, a safe aviary, reduced stress – and let Nature take her course – the bird stands a very good chance of healing and getting a second chance.
Do all of the animals who we treat recover? Of course not. Many animals do not respond to treatment – the antibiotics are too late to prevent the death of a Barn Swallow bitten by a house cat, the neurological trauma that leaves the Raven with paralyzed legs doesn’t resolve. More often, the patient’s injuries are simply too severe. The only course we can take is to humanely end the suffering. Any hunter can tell you that you don’t let an animal wander off to a slow death from the wounds that you’ve caused. You don’t gut-shoot a deer and then “let nature take its course.” Wild animals who’ve been injured by the human-built world at least have the right to a humane death.
The person in uniform, or the biologist, or the front desk clerk, who recommends letting nature take its course may not be able to diagnose the injury, may not be aware that treatment is available, may not be informed at all on this topic. Often the person functioning as the authority is merely parroting a worn phrase we all know so well.
‘Let nature take its course’ is not a fact-based recommendation, it is not science based. Now of course there are many ways to use this phrase in many situations, but to be clear, when we’re talking about injured and orphaned wild animals, letting nature take its course means not taking responsibility for the injury and suffering our society has caused. It is irresponsible even though it parades as the dispassionate, wider-scoped perspective, not the uneducated sentimental feelings of compassion. And in this way, Nature is made out to be the culprit – Nature is cruel, and the compassionate person is a fool. A logging truck full of trees hits a deer and kills her, leaving her young stranded – too small to survive. The local ranger says the fawn should be left alone, that we should let nature take its course, and it is Nature who is cruel.
Meanwhile, who destroys Nature foolishly? Is it the person who blunders in picking up a fledgling sparrow thinking that the bird was in trouble and not simply in an awkward phase of learning to fly? Or a bison calf? Or, is it the builders of pipelines, the levelers of forests, the polluters of the sea? Why is it only fitting for nature to take its course when an individual is suffering an injury caused by industrial society?
And there is this: the heavy line drawn between the human and the natural, between society and the wild is religious, not scientific. It is a belief, not a finding. Who among us has the hubris to say where that line runs, or if it exists at all.
In the end, ‘letting nature take its course’ is a fallacy, an error, a hypocrisy, a lie.
Right now, in Washington state, wolves are slated to be slaughtered for having killed cattle that were put out to graze at the wolves’ den site on public lands. No cries from the biologists, the wardens, or the clerks now to let nature take its course – no cries at all.

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On examination no broken bones or other traumatic injuries were noted.
Raven and one of four Steller’s Jays in an aviary under quarantine. Eventually, the quarantine was lifted and all birds were given a clean bill of health.

Our new aviary is good place to learn to fly, but a bad place to live forever!
What this Raven doesn’t know is that this will be the last time she will ever suffer the indignities of the net!
A thorough examination on release is the bookend of the thorough examination we give on admission. Here her feet are inspected to be sure that no captivity-related problems are going to interfere with her ability to thrive in the wild. Captivity is very hard on wild animals. We resort to it only when their lives depend on treatment.
Is there anything more beautiful than a healthy young Raven?
All Ravens think “outside the box.”




Freed from us and far enough way to stop and consider what next she might do with her hard won freedom!
Thin and dehydrated upon admission, the Western screech-owl quickly accepted the offered bits of mouse we fed, gaining weight daily.
The forested ridge of Rohner Park, Fortuna, home for Western Screech-owls and many more wild neighbors.
Growing up!
BAX Wildlife Rehabilitator, Lucinda Adamson briefly holds the owlet so that he can call, hopefully bringing his parents to ivestigate. This method can be a very effective way to locate families. Imagine our own children calling, who we’ve missed.
An excellent flier now, his ability to evade the net was impressive. Soon his skills will open up the dense branches of the forest for his silent passage.
The aviary of his youth will soon be only a memory.
A cautious young owl hopefully grows to be an old wise one.
The young owl’s first flight, free in the wild.
Perching relatively near after his first wild flight, the youngster gets his bearings.
At dusk he was perched much farther above – alive to the night.
Raccoons learn to forage in captivity to prepare them for a life of freedom.
It might not look like much, but this tiny concrete river is where the orphaned raccoons in our care learn to fish! Check out
A very young Opossum about to be fed replacement formula. Soon she’ll be weaned. Opossums grow up fast! In just a few more weeks she’ll be released to her wild and free life!
Osprey uses new feathers to fly in our aviary. It won’t be long before we make the trek back to Lewiston Lake, where this intense, plunge diving raptor was found after losing his feather to a power line fire.
Common Murre (
Three orphaned Common Murres soon to be introduced to the adult Murre.
A raccoon heads for a quiet place to eat her fish… This youngster still has a t least a month inc are before she will be ready for release.
In the aviary with another young raptor, the Red-shouldered hawk (on the left) is alert and wary.
Capturing the hawk from the aviary for her release exam. Every examination puts a great deal of stress on a patient. We reduce this handling as much as possible.
Keeping raptor feet healthy in an environment where they spend more than an ordinary amount of time perched in one location is important. After 6 weeks in captivity this hawk’s feet are in perfect condition.
Her eyes, mouth, hearing – every aspect of this hawk screamed “Release me!” So we did.

It’s a long and stunningly beautiful drive to Petrolia, the human capital of the Lost Coast.
Without knowledge of the nest location, a release site was chosen based on proximity to Petrolia and suitability of habitat – the presence of trees, open land, and the Mattole River made this a good site.
Release!
Our patient in flight, over the home she was meant to have.
Perched and calling, soon two other Red-shouldered Hawks, at least one of them an adult, arrived. Was the adult a parent to this youngster? Well, we can’t say for sure. We believe so. One thing we know with certainty: they left the area together. A re-united family is the likely explanation.
The last shot gotten as the young bird followed the adults into the trees beyond view.

Complete set of the primary flight feathers for the right wing of an adult Osprey. Flight feathers are called remiges, a latin word combining the word for oar and the verb to drive – it is accurate to think of these feathers as the oars birds use to paddle through the air.
First new flight feather, alongside the damaged one.
A heated scalpel blade easily slices through the keratin shaft of the feather.
A small dowel is glued into the hollow shaft.
The same is repeated on the other side.

We stopped after replacing five feathers on the right side. Being handled for any length of time is very stressful for wild animals. We gave the Osprey a 20 minute break. Also it was time for our baby opossums to be fed and we needed the room!





Because one of the Osprey’s center tail feathers has grown in, we decided to replace only the outside four on each side.
As the primary flight feathers are known scientifically as remiges, the tail feathers are known as rectrices. Rectrice, from the Latin, rector, or helmsman, rudder. So the flight feathers are the oars and the tail feathers are the rudder. And the bird who uses them is a sky kayaker.


After some time, we’ll evaluate for replacing the center damaged feathers as well. If we don’t need to, that would be terrific. Reducing the stress of our patients is a critical component of our care and we strive for the least invasive treatment possible.
Feathers are worth an entire life of study! An amazing evolutionary development that not only allows flight, but also allows a life at sea, a life in the arctic, a life in equatorial regions… closely related to hair, nails, claws and scales, feathers are a natural wonder the importance of which can’t be overstated. Want to learn more about feathers –
In our newest aviary, these four Steller’s Jays safely gained strength and replaced feathers.
By the time of their release, they were very difficult to catch in the aviary – an excellent indication!
Not all of dark horizontal lines in these tail feathers are natural color. Some of tose lines are “stress bars” which mark the time in this juvenile’s life was not getting physical needs met. These bars are weak points where the shaft might break. Too many and the bird would be unreleasable without some kind of intervention or the natural growth of new replacement feathers.
After a 2 hour drive, the birds are brought to heir release site along the Klamath River.




















Our patient no more, simply another incredible Great Egret, alive and returning to his or her partner and young after a brush with death and a mysterious encounter – living into a second chance.
A happy rehabilitator! Lucinda Adamson after the bird has flown…
