When wildlife rehabilitators gather together it usually turns into a conversation fest. We share tales of rescues, treatments, and bizarre rehab related phone calls.

One of the most diverse aspects of wildlife rehabilitation is a rescue. A rescue usually begins with a phone call informing the rehabber that somewhere, an animal is in a perilous situation and needs help. I would like to share one rescue that happened to me a few years ago. It probably isn’t my most unique, but it is an odd one.

The caller was a manager at a local cinema. She had called me from the theater claiming that she drove from home to work, (approximately seven miles) with a live woodchuck in the engine compartment of her car. She went on to explain that she thought it had jumped out before she left for work. When she arrived at the cinema, she lifted the hood of her car and it was hiding in the engine compartment, not too far from the manifold. She assured me that it wasn’t hurt, but that it refused to come out. I geared up the van with my nets, snare pole, heavy gloves, animal carrier, and all the things I thought I might need. When I arrived on site, I saw a small group of people clustered around a car with the hood up. The people were armed with sticks, brooms, and a towel. Unless this was a very different kind of car wash, I was sure I was in the right place. Upon evaluating the situation, I discovered that indeed, a very feisty and scared woodchuck had squeezed itself between a narrow gap in the engine's components. It was in a spot that it was able to evade all attempts at netting, snaring, or grabbing a hold of with a gloved hand. The latter of which is a technique utilized only by robots or fools. Anyhow, my job was to figure out what to do next.

In the mean time, someone had called the police to check out this suspicious scenario. The officer decided he could be of assistance by utilizing his sap gloves and baton to maneuver him out. I had finally convinced him that his flashlight was of more practical use to us at this point, especially after the nightstick had sustained a very deep bite, proving once again that a woodchuck can chuck wood. As luck would have it, and it does happen sometime, a man driving a pickup truck loaded with equipment was just cruising by slowly, curious of what was going on. On his truck he had an air compressor, which gave me an idea. I requested his assistance, and he maneuvered the air compressor into position. I formulated the plan. My wife Noreen, the officer, and I were now in position around the car, armed with nets. The others had surrounded the area. My animal carrier was readied, and the man with the compressor blew a loud blast of air into the engine compartment. All at once, out popped the chuck from below, scrambling to each side of the car until finally with one timed lunge, well two timed lunges, O.K. maybe three of four timed lunges, Mr. Woodchuck was netted and placed into the carrier. I followed the grateful theater manager home and deposited her hitchhiker back where it belonged. Perhaps it was a little scared, but it was unharmed and in familiar territory. I guess it never heeded it’s parents warnings about hitch hiking. Sometimes, the kids have to learn the hard way.

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