The Demise

There are certain situations when it really hurts to be an animal lover.

Today, like most days, I went outside to do laundry. We are lucky enough to share free laundry facilities with our two neighbors, and the wash machine is by the carport. Right as I go to enter the shed that houses the wash machine and dryer, a bird goes zooming by my head and I hear something fall. I already know that there are many nests in the eaves of the carport, and I am hoping that my worst fears aren't going to be realized.

But there he is, an adorable baby bird laying in a halo of blood on the cement. Apparently the bird that flew so quickly by my head was the mama bird, and in her haste she pushed the baby out of the nest. Most likely I startled mama bird and she took me to be a predator. She is long gone and has abandoned the baby to the forces that be.

I am not ready to believe that mama bird isn't coming back, and even though birdie's eye has popped out of his head, I carefully deposit him in the nest without touching him because I've heard if you touch the baby with your hands the mother abandons it. I go inside for a while desperately hoping mama bird will come back because I don't know what to do. She doesn't return.

Now I am sobbing under the nest looking at his little chest rise and fall. I cannot leave him there to die and I feel responsible as a witness. It's a marvel the bird is still alive, and it seems that his will to live is pretty strong, but his head is what took the fall. There is no nursing him back to health.

I go back inside and call the local humane society and ask them what to do. The woman on the line tells me she knows the perfect place to take him, and gently warns me that they will probably euthanize him. So, I call the wildlife rescue center, and they agree to take him. I scour the house for a cardboard box and poke holes in it with kitchen shears. Then I put tissues in the bottom instead of paper towels because they're softer as if it really matters.

This time I pick him up with my hands. He is still soft and warm and he is breathing. And it breaks my heart. I leave the lid open when I place him on the passenger seat of my car because I have this compulsion to keep checking if he is still alive. Even though I get slightly lost, and it has been an half an hour since his fall, he is still alive and struggling when I arrive at the wildlife center. I close the lid as I walk to the facilities in an effort to maybe pretend I am less attached than I am.

When I arrive, they quickly whisk him away and give me paperwork to fill out. I write in my information and attach a five dollar donation in thanks. I ask the woman when she returns if they are going to euthanize him, and she tells me yes. She tells me that it's really good that I brought him in because it can take a long time to die from the kind of head trauma he sustained. I thank her and leave, and as soon as I am out the door I burst into tears.

I call my boyfriend to update him on the situation and he tells me all the reasonable things there is to say in such a situation. But I cannot embrace reason. The birds demise is senseless, as so much of life is, and that is why it hurts so bad.