The ‘wildlife Florence Nightingale’

It’s the “insanely busy season” at the largest wildlife rehabilitation center in the Baltimore area. Which means that more than the usual complement of injured and orphaned animals has taken up residence in the basement of Kathy Woods’ modest ranch house in the Phoenix woods.

Baby sparrows are chirping. Raccoons, possums and groundhogs waddle in cages. Two tiny barn owls “scream their lungs out” when hungry.

Turtles with eye infections, ducks with limps and bunnies in need of weaning are among the more than 150 critters currently receiving species-speci"ic treatment — and awaiting their hopedfor return to the wild — at the Phoenix Wildlife Center in Baltimore County.

What others might call pandemonium, Woods describes as “wonderful chaos.”

“It’s madness, and no, it never really stops,” she said one recent afternoon in her cheerfully cluttered home, the site of the nonprofit. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

It has been nearly 25 years since Woods and her husband, birding expert and nowretired hospital administrator Hugh Simmons, bought a 2 1/2-acre spread on a hillside on Manor Road with an eye toward helping the state’s native animals. When they started out in 1992, Woods worked mostly alone, treating 40 animals or so per year. Now, about 20 volunteers, including Simmons, help her take care of more than 1,500 creatures annually. This time of year, a few months after birth season for many species, the center’s dozens of Kathy Woods relaxes with her dog Nelson and one of her cats, Kelly Bell, on Aug. 1 in Phoenix, Md. Woods, founder of the non-profit Phoenix Wildlife Center, treats injured and orphaned wild animals in her home with the help of her husband and many volunteers. indoor cages and outdoor aviaries are mostly at capacity — one reason she’ll be moving operations to a 223-acre expanse not far away sometime next year.

“Yes, I have to say we’ve grown,” says Woods, who still works without drawing a salary.

The story of the Phoenix Wildlife Center began decades ago, and took root and spread as surely as the oaks and sugar maples that surround its headquarters. But getting that story intact from Woods can be a challenge. The distractions rarely stop. The phone rings every few minutes. She gets up every half-hour to feed baby birds. And she must gently fend off the four cats and one dog that share her home, not to mention speaking above the constant chatter of Bird, an African gray parrot who repeats her words from another room. Bit by bit, the tale emerges. Her father was a civil engineer who moved his family frequently. Woods, born in 1950, grew up in places as farflung as Iceland, Mexico and Pakistan, always dreaming of becoming a veterinarian.

Both parents loved animals — her dad took her to zoos wherever they lived — but neither saw veterinary science as suitable work for a girl. She ended up running doctors’ offices for more than 20 years, eventually coordinating surgical procedures at Johns Hopkins Hospital.

Woods reconnected with her passion in the early 1990s, when she became a volunteer for the federal whooping crane reintroduction program at the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Laurel. She loved helping replenish the numbers of the rare birds and restoring them to the wild. Within two years, she was a full-fledged wildlife rehabilitator, one of only about 50 in the state. She has immersed herself in the "ield ever since, accepting and nursing sick and stray animals, poring over the latest research on native species, trawling for donated supplies and staying in close contact with dozens of veterinarians around the state. After earning permits from the state and federal governments — required to legally treat wild animals — Woods moved with Simmons to their current home and used her own money to start the Phoenix Wildlife Center.

Woods’ reputation as a clinician has grown to the point where veterinarians, animalcontrol officers, and animalloving residents across the state and sometimes beyond think of her first when they run across a wounded bird, an abandoned fawn, a hawk with an injured wing or a squirrel stuck in a glue trap.

She rarely goes out to pick up patients. She tries instead to talk callers through their problems, arranging for transport to Phoenix only when she deems it necessary. When the animals arrive, it becomes clear why Woods is a go-to resource.

Whatever the problem might be, clients say, she can generally diagnose it and devise a plan of treatment more or less on the spot.

Michael Epps, an animal control officer for Baltimore County, has been taking wild animals to Woods for years.

“She is truly an amazing person,” Epps says. “I’ve brought her everything — unwanted kittens, baby and adult raccoons, even a turkey buzzard with an injured wing that couldn’t fly.

“Kathy always seems to know right away what needs to be done. I remember how she rehabbed that old buzzard. Now he’s off enjoying his life.”