June 1, 2010

Fly Well

Some days are so very odd. One second your heart is intact, and the very next it’s splintered into a thousand shards of unfixable glass.
I went out to fix my friend’s garage door, as it had been open a few days and it needed to be shut as it’s full of all the stuff that was hauled out of the basement after the flood some weeks ago. I found that one of the sensors at the bottom of the door had been pulled out of the side wall somehow and bent down to see if I could stick it back up temporarily. As I glanced into the corner of the garage, my heart stopped. “Glued” to a sticky pad meant to kill large spiders, was a worn out exhausted little bird. I knew she was alive as she tired pathetically to free herself from the pad as I leaned in to see what was going on. It wasn’t until after that I realized what she was stuck on. Her wing had been torn from it’s socket, her leg broken and bend in 3 different directions. I stroked her head and spoke as quietly as I could, in a whisper to comfort her. I was crying so hard at this point that Midi thought I lost my ever loving mind. We had just gone from racing around the yard like 3 year olds to sobbing uncontrollably in the drive-way. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know what to do. She’s out there still…
I carried her out, still hopelessly stuck to the “spider trap”, and placed her under the cool shade of some bushes. I came in the house and got a tea towel and placed it loosely over her body. I just wanted her to have some comfort around her. I remember my mom putting birds that had hit the window in shoe boxes lined with an old towel. Most of the time those birds ended up flying away a few hours later. I always marveled at her ability to “fix” any living thing. I admired her for it.
So here I was an hour ago, trying to think of what my mother would do. She’d know it was hopeless from just looking at the poor little thing. Broken leg, broken wing and no way on God’s glorious earth would anything or anyone be able to “Unstuck” that bird from the Spider trap. The heat is such that I don’t give her much more than an hour or so. Part of me wants to give her water, a drop or two, and perhaps that’s what I should go do now. I have a dropper in the dogs bag for when she won’t drink on her own. Little dogs can dehydrate really quickly. Even if Midi doesn’t want a drink, I’ll give her one.

I mean how very random to end’s one life like that. The irony of it all is that birds are the best spider trappers of them all. Birds keep the insect population down so well for us people. We’d be eaten alive if it weren’t for our feathered friends making dinner out of them day after day.
It’s been an awful morning. I haven’t cried that hard in a long time and if I think about it for very long now I’ll cry again.
I have tried not cry in front of the bird. They’re so smart. She knows it’s the end. She knows it’s very hopeless, but somehow she excepts her fate and waits there with such dignity, you can see it in her eyes. An eerie peace that I will never understand.
I am glad I found her.

When she dies I am getting her off of that spider trap somehow, and make her a little grave and say a prayer.
Fly well.

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