A wildlife rehabilitation facility doesn't sound like a dangerous place does it? Rehabilitation It makes one think of a quiet, peaceful setting. Kind ladies in starched, white outfits perhaps, strolling across a grassy lawn offering cold drinks to the residents - A place where one goes to mend and rest. Or in my case, a place where relatives go to dry out. But wildlife rehabilitation? That my friends, is another scene entirely. Oh, the animals look harmless enough, sitting there in their temporary cages. Maybe a handsome bird of prey with a broken wing or a cute fawn sick from insect bites, all quietly healing while awaiting their release back to the wild. Not a hint of danger here, right? Wrong! Old naïve film burner that you are, witness the following incidents:

It had been awhile since I'd been to Arkansas, a beautiful state, especially in springtime, with rolling hills and dogwoods. Photo opportunities abound with curvy back roads and meandering streams. With this in mind, I planned a trip, but thought I may as well include a visit to a wildlife rehabber if any happened to be near my intended route. The Internet provided a phone number and after an e-mail or two and a few conversations, a very nice lady invited me stop by and photograph her "babies". First she brought out a young Screech Owl with a drooping wing that graciously posed for several shots. Then a Barred Owl was coaxed to sit on a nearby branch. I was happily shooting frame after frame when suddenly, I was struck from behind with what felt like a fuzzy baseball bat. Much to my surprise, I was being attacked by a Whitetail Buck. Despite his antlers being in the velvet stage, the blows were no less severe.

I wanted to believe her but my shins, which were now rapidly discoloring, weren't so sure. He continued to bang away until my aching body begged for relief. I thanked her for her time, told her she had a really nice pet there, but I had to go.

Oklahoma has two state parks with wildlife rehab centers that enable the public to get up close and personal with many species and to better educate them in the ways of the wild. It was at one of these centers that I noticed a new resident, a Red-tail Hawk.

"He was a little dinged up when he was brought in but he's OK now. We're going to release him soon," the naturalist told me. "I think it would be all right if you went in the cage for some photos. Just don't make any sudden movements."

The aviary wasn't the best of places for a natural looking environment. No matter what angle I used, it just didn't look good. Deciding the best scenario was to put on a long lens and try for a portrait shot, I bent over the camera bag to make the change. The Red-tail, for some reason, decided I had just committed the forbidden "sudden movement" and took flight. After one complete loop around the enclosure, he came in for a landing, ON MY HEAD!

"Be ... very ... still," the naturalist whispered. Sure, easy for him to say, as the talons dug deeper and deeper into my skull. I could see the headlines.

The Red-tail had made his point and he knew it. Departing my scratched and bleeding dome, he lazily flew back to his favorite perch where he let out a small victory screech and stared at me. The message was clear. "Don't ever come around these parts again, Pilgrim."

I should have known better. After all, how many brushes with death can one expect to survive? But when the same facility called with news of a bobcat that had just come in, I couldn't resist. It was a beautiful cat. Didn't look much different than an ordinary housecat, just had a short tail. It quietly lay there in the cage, docile, half asleep really. You could almost hear it purring.

"Yeah, you can open the cage a crack, just be sure you don't let it out". It was the very same naturalist that made me fall for that lie about the Red-tail being safe.

Only possible shot would be with a macro, I decided. Easing the door open just a bit, I poked the lens in and tried to focus. Not quite close enough, just a little more ...

With a growl and a hiss, the bobcat sprang. My viewfinder was now full of fur and teeth, neither of which, by the way, was in focus. Fear and terror took over as I frantically scrambled to get my head and arms out of the cage, fearing I was soon to become a Friskies dinner. Well, I got out all right, but not before banging my head on the frame of the cage which raised a good-sized knot. The bobcat? Oh, he just settled back into his bed of straw, quite content that he had just scared the bejesus out of a foolish photographer for interrupting his nap.

So there you have it fellow photographers. You are forewarned! Just remember, when that wildlife rehabber innocently invites you come out and take a few shots of her "little darlings", be afraid, be very afraid!!

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Warren Williams has been doing photography for over 25 years focusing mainly on Nature and wildlife. His work has been published in several magazines, including Outdoor Photographer, Outdoor Oklahoma, Oklahoma Today, and Persimmon Hill (the magazine of the Cowboy Hall of Fame). Several of his photos have also appeared on calendars by Smith-Southwestern. Warren is an active member on Photo Migrations and would also invite you to visit his website located at: Warren Williams Photography - Images of Wildlife and Nature.