Earth Day wildlife rescue is never predictable, especially at our Louisville sanctuary. April 22 started like any other spring morning: mild chaos, a suspicious smell I couldn’t locate, and a parrot yelling “HEY!” every time I passed the birdroom. However, by nightfall, we’d taken in a shrew, a stray gosling, and an orphaned raccoon, three tiny reminders of why this work matters, and why every Earth Day seems to come with its own wild surprise package.


Let’s start with the shrew. Not a mouse, not a mole, and definitely not winning any beauty contests, this pint-sized insectivore came in twitching, terrified, and about as cooperative as a greased ping pong ball. It had likely tangled with a cat, or just hit the wrong patch of lawn and ran straight into suburban wildlife roulette.If you’ve never seen a shrew up close, picture a creature that looks like it’s late for something, always. They’ve got those needle noses, tiny eyes that say “I hate this,” and a metabolism that makes hummingbirds look sluggish.
In fact, a shrew must eat every 2-3 hours or it could literally starve to death. That’s not hyperbole. That’s science.That’s pressure. Fortuneatly, we got him warm and stable with a hydration boost and a quiet dark box. And while he didn’t exactly send us a thank-you card, he did stop screaming long enough to breathe normally again. I’ll count that as progress.

The first Earth Day wildlife rescue of the day reminded us that size doesn’t determine urgency. The second rescue? One lonely little gosling strutting down the road like he’d just escaped from a Pixar audition.
No parents in sight. No siblings. Just one defiant puffball stomping through traffic like he owned the block. We don’t know where he came from, maybe he got separated in a storm, maybe his family crossed too fast and he got left behind. What we do know is he was cold, confused, and way too young to be a solo act.

Now, there’s a special kind of heartbreak when it comes to lone goslings. They imprint fast. The first warm, moving thing they see? That’s mom now. Could be a goose. Could be a tire. Could be me. He took one look at Tara and imprinted so hard he practically tried to climb into her jacket. She melted instantly. I’ve seen grown humans take longer to fall in love on dating apps.


The third rescue of the day rolled in thanks to one of our volunteers, one of the good ones, the kind who doesn’t ask, just drives.
An infant raccoon, pink-nosed and big-eyed, maybe three days old at most. Still had that wobbly, not-quite-sure-how-paws-work thing going on. His tail was barely a whisper of fluff, and his breathing? Shallow, rapid, the way newborns breathe when the world’s still a little too loud.
He’d been found alone, curled in a barn corner like a discarded stuffed animal. No mama nearby. No siblings. Just him. Our volunteer wrapped him like a burrito in a warm towel and made the long drive over, holding him close the whole time.

“I just didn’t want him to die alone,” she said. And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s the reason we do all of this.
We got him hydrated, checked for injuries (miraculously none), and started gentle feeding. He had a grip on my finger so tight I joked he was trying to steal my identity.
Because this was Earth Day, I figured we’d do a little breakdown. Here’s what April 22 looked like at a glance:
Wildlife Rescued on April 22
Equal chaos. Equal heartache. Equal joy.
Looking back on this Earth Day wildlife rescue marathon, each animal taught us something different. None of these animals are rare. They’re not unusual or showy. They’re not the kind of creatures that usually make headlines or documentaries.
But they matter. They matter because they’re living, breathing, feeling beings. They matter because we noticed. Because someone cared enough to stop. To scoop them up. To bring them to us.
And that’s how real change happens. Not in grand gestures, but in little ones. One tiny paw, one feathered wanderer, one set of trembling whiskers at a time.
It felt poetic that this all happened on Earth Day. Like the planet was quietly reminding us:
“Hey. It’s not just about planting trees and recycling cans. It’s about paying attention. Every creature counts.”
So, we did what we always do, we fed, warmed, comforted, and prepared them for a better tomorrow.
And when the last animal was finally settled in for the night, I stepped outside, sat on the porch next to a goose crate, and looked up at the sky, tired but grateful.
Not bad, for a little patch of Earth in Kentucky.

Some of our related content:
- More about baby bird emergencies and imprinting: Found a Baby Bird? Here’s What To Do
- Check out Everyday Wildlife Heroes of Kentucky
- Donate to Support Wildlife Rescue
Ruffled Feathers Parrot Sanctuary Inc.
Discover more from Ruffled Feathers Parrot Sanctuary Inc.
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

