I wasn’t even ready to wake up when my dog began knocking over laundry baskets and making a general ruckus, so I wasn’t awake when I opened the door to let her out. She bolted about a foot in to the yard then stood stiff and sniffing. I stumbled over to see what the fuss was about, when my half-conscious self was stabbed with a tragic site.
Some poor hatchling had found its way out of the nest, and from the look of its condition it had not done so gracefully. The wet bird was face down in the grasses’ cold morning dew, and every breath seemed forced & painful. As I crouched and observed, I slowly awoke to the day with a graphic reminder of our mortality.
I sat, observing, almost in denial. “My coffee should be ready. I’ll check back on him in a few. I’m sure he’ll be up and out of there by then.”
In half of an hour, I did return… but my hapless little friend had not moved a muscle but to force more breaths. As I sat close by, a strong wave of empathy washed over me as I realized the first ant scouts had discovered a potential meal. It was clear, that if I did not act quickly, the bird would be dead in an hour: Eaten alive in a tortuous fashion.
Even if I did act, what could I hope to do? The hatchling may have stumbled off the roof & broken bones. For all I knew it had already spent a night exposed to the cruelty of the elements. It certainly didn’t look like it had much of a chance either way, but something had to be done to ease its suffering.
The cut bottom of a milk jug and some soft paper towels would make an emergency nest, and I figured at the least it might be dryer and more comfortable than lying in wet dirt, covered in ants. If I were a doctor, I might have had some opiates to prescribe for the pain, but the closest I had was a cloud of herbal panacea. Whether the bird found panic or peace, I wanted to impart as much experience in to that short life as I could. What else is life about, if not the joyous experiences we have the fortune of attending?
As the bird adapted to its new death bed, it cracked its eyes open a bit and seemed to stare up at me. I put a finger gently on its claw and the eyes closed slowly again. The labored breathing continued, and I knew there was nothing left but for time and destiny to do their dirty work.
Within an hour, I returned in hopes of some small sign of improvement. Instead, as I saw the labored breathing of before, I let out a small sigh.
And as I sighed, his eyes opened wide. He reached his claw out, and as I touched his hand again the eyes relaxed and he breathed his last… There was a twitch, and there were tears.
