By Casey McIlhenny, Cornell DVM ‘26

What does it mean to care for 1,376 wild animals over the course of a summer? This past summer, I found out firsthand as a hospital extern at WildCare, a small but incredibly busy wildlife hospital just north of San Francisco, California. I had previously volunteered at WildCare in high school, mostly doing nonmedical tasks—prepping food, cleaning cages, and staying on top of laundry. While I enjoyed this work and recognized its value, I wanted to do more. I wanted to learn how to assess a patient's well-being, track health and developmental milestones, anticipate nutritional needs, and ultimately help make medical decisions to rehabilitate animals for release. As a hospital extern, I was able to do exactly that.

During my summer externship, my days were divided between WildCare’s clinic, where we treated animals that came through the hospital, including opossums, skunks, raccoons, sea otters, bobcats, snakes, rodents, deer—as well as various songbirds, raptors, waterfowl, seabirds, crows, ravens, doves, and pigeons. Of the 1,376 patients admitted during my three-month externship, the majority were orphaned young animals or victims of “caught-by-cat” encounters. But perhaps the best way to capture my experience at WildCare is to walk you through a typical July day.

A Typical Day at the Clinic

I began the day in our small one-room hospital, preparing medications and fluids, planning an efficient way to administer the treatments while performing weight and health checks, and moving patients as necessary. Next, I evaluated two pelicans admitted the previous night, giving them fluids in their pouch and running “fish school”—encouraging them to chase, catch, and eat fish that I waved through water. Continuing, I administered medication to a blind opossum mom and weighed her babies, fed and gave fluids to a thin juvenile red-tailed hawk, and helped replace the wrap on a peregrine falcon’s broken wing (Nox, a minor celebrity from the UC Berkeley falcon family).

On that same day, I also rehydrated a gopher snake caught in garden netting, weighed orphaned gulls from Alcatraz while assessing which ones could fly, and evaluated a fox with hind-leg-constriction injuries from being caught in a soccer net. I ended the day by quietly and calmly restraining a skunk while staff evaluated its paw, which had been caught in a rat trap.

These were only some of the tasks that we had to get done as part of a busy day’s work. I also supported the veterinarian with intakes of raccoons, snakes, birds, and more; helped set up treatment and diet plans; assembled new cages or enclosures; monitored anesthesia during surgeries; learned techniques for wing wraps and blood draws; and typed up my records in my spare moments.

My bird room shifts followed a similar pace. I administered medications, monitored weight gain and feather and body condition, performed intake exams, wrapped wings and splinted legs, and evaluated flight and mobility—all while feeding baby birds on 30-, 60-, 90-, 120-, or 180-minute timers. I became the “parent bird.”

Responding to Wildlife Emergencies

I was also on the front lines helping to respond to and treat wildlife emergencies. This included situations like a nearby bridge collapse that suddenly left us with dozens of baby Mexican free-tailed bats needing foster parents, managing the mysterious ailment severely weakening pelicans around the Bay Area, and dealing with the chronic emergencies stemming from negative human-wildlife interactions. This last category directly affected 314 patients this summer, whether they were caught by cats or dogs, entrapped in man-made traps or spaces, or hit by cars.

This category of “chronic emergency” left the biggest impression on me. So many injured or orphaned animals came in due to direct human contact. I often hear people argue that we should “let nature take its course” rather than intervene to rehabilitate wildlife, but the concept of survival of the fittest no longer applies when direct human interference causes so many of these injuries. Those 314 cases didn’t include animals found on the ground for unknown reasons (perhaps electrocuted on wires), orphans whose parents were caught, hit by vehicles, or poisoned, or wildlife impacted by extreme weather events likely tied to climate change—largely a human-driven phenomenon. If we included these, the number of human-related intakes would likely approach the full 1,376.

Reflections on a Rewarding Experience

There was rarely a spare moment, but I loved every part—from palpating for fractures on a gray squirrel and taking x-rays of a scrub jay to syringe-feeding a bobcat kitten, running distemper tests on a fox, administering vaccines to raccoons, or analyzing blood and fecal samples.

Some of the most rewarding moments came not just from seeing the animals respond to care through weight gain, but also from observing changes in their behavior and awareness: fledgling finches exploring and pecking at small berries on a branch I had added to their enclosure, a fox finally eating after days of stress- and pain-related anorexia, or a Great Horned Owl taking its first uninterrupted and smooth flight around the aviary after recovering from head trauma. These moments stay with me.

As a vet student interested in wildlife and conservation medicine, I want to work clinically with animals, conserve a biodiverse environment, and design sustainable communities, all in the hopes of upholding the tenets of One Health: that human health depends on animal and environmental health, and that climate change and habitat destruction are threatening all animals, including us. As a future veterinarian focusing on One Health, I can be at the forefront of mitigating the effects of climate change and species loss. As such, I envision myself rehabilitating wild animals, reintroducing native species, educating surrounding communities, and thereby enabling our environment to heal itself.

Acknowledgements

I am deeply grateful to Jake Holshuh ‘67, DVM ’69, who generously sponsored this experience through the Student Support Fund. I would also like to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone I had the privilege of working with at WildCare—Dr. Juliana Sorem, Brittany Morse, Nancy Groom, Chantal Bedard, Melanie Piazza, Laura Scaparro, Claire Foster, Rebecca LaMotte, Kristie Nguyenhoag, Shayla Baird, Jessica Jacobson, Tracy Novik, and all of the incredible interns and volunteers. Your guidance, mentorship, and willingness to teach me and share your knowledge made this an incredibly formative experience—one I’ll continue to build upon from throughout my career.

Casey McIlhenny, Class of 2026, is a third-year veterinary student at Cornell University’s College of Veterinary Medicine, focusing on wildlife and conservation medicine. She is especially drawn to the concept of One Health and hopes to center her career around its core principle—that human, animal, and environmental health are deeply interconnected. In the future, she aims to rehabilitate wild animals, support sustainable and biodiverse communities, and improve human-wildlife interactions through both clinical work and community outreach. Following graduation, she is excited to find her place in the world of conservation medicine!

Note: These photos were not taken at WildCare and do not represent their animal handling practices.