Not bad for a fat girl


That Poor Little Bird

There is a bird’s nest in our backyard. Not really in the yard, though, more like up under the patio cover next to the house. We see the birds fly in and out of there, and we can hear them on the wall outside our bedroom, but we can’t actually see the nest. I thought the babies had flown away a while ago, but either I was wrong or there is a new crop.il_340x270.529381218_l4qm

This afternoon while we were in the yard the dog nosed at something that moved. I told her to “leave it,” and remarkably, she did. Turns out it was a baby bird. This baby was far from the nest, and obviously injured. As I said, we don’t actually have access to the nest, and truthfully this little one might not have even come from there. What do you do with an injured baby bird?

Maybe, if you know anything about birds, you can attempt to rehabilitate it. I know nothing about birds, and frankly they kind of freak me out, up close. Putting it in the nest wasn’t an option, and even if we had, I doubt it would have survived. So what does that leave? A mercy killing? Maybe it would have been the kindest thing to do, but I couldn’t. I was a coward. I let nature take its course, and a little while later I found the little guy dead.

It was a bird. A common ordinary bird. There are millions of them, and not all of the babies survive, which is why they hatch multiple eggs at a time. I get it. Still, I feel badly about it. My head knows that in the grand scheme of things, that little bird’s death is just the way things work, but my heart is a little sad about it. I hope that little bird found some peace. I’m sorry little bird.