An Avian Crisis of Human Proportions
(recalled from early last year)
Occasionally during the day to day hum-drum of existence, the Universe it seems, likes to keep us on our toes by injecting a little life and death drama into our household. Usually this manifests itself by way of our beloved Cat and his fascination with the native avian fauna. As is usually the case, it was a Saturday.
When my Wife left for the gym, all was calm and orderly at home. The only pressing decision was whether to make a coffee and sit in the air conditioning or deliberately broil outside on the lawn until I’d achieved a slightly darker complexion of ‘medium-rare’. As I was about to do the latter however, I noticed that Felix was crouched outside the back door amidst a pile of feathers and what was unmistakably a helpless, and mortally injured, bird. I should probably point out that having lived with Cats all my life, in particular Felix for the past twelve years, I’m used to dealing with all manner of maimed and frightened wildlife in the final throws of death, but seeing a helpless animal suffering and in pain never gets easier, especially when you know almost immediately that there is nothing you can do for it. Staring disconsolately out of the window I could see this was definitely one of those occasions. Even from a distance of five feet it was clear both her wings and one leg were badly broken. Obviously Felix just sat there, admiring his work with a look that is singularly particular to Cats - a hint of smugness, a dash of pride and absolutely no remorse whatsoever. My heart sunk. I knew I was going to have to find a way to end this poor creatures suffering before it died a slow and painful death, most probably at the paws of the furry marauder perched next it if I didn't act quickly. History dictates that during these moments of existential crises in our Family, I immediately send a photo to my wife with a blank expression of a message stating what has just transpired. Though it may seem outwardly futile as a means to a solution, it was actually crucial, as my Wife was in possession of our only form of motorised transport, so before I knew what was happening she’d pulled into the driveway amidst a screech of tyres and the faint whiff of burnt rubber. Luckily I had a box and blankets at the ready.
Unless we could get the bird to the SPCA the only other prospect was going to be breaking her neck as humanely as possible myself. (The bird, not my Wife, I should clarify). Seeing as I had about as much enthusiasm to do this as skewering my own eyeball with a rusty hypodermic needle, I put aside the usual reservations about my Wife’s motoring skills and calmly asked her, if on this one exceptional occasion, she could please put her fucking foot down. Even though it was out of hours by the time we arrived at the SPCA we were relieved to see there were still cars in the staff car park. The Woman on duty was not so relieved it seemed. Clearly confused as to why someone would be skidding into her car park after hours via some hefty input on the handbrake, she came bolting out to make sure we weren’t criminals (or drunk or both) and then escorted us into reception. Any thoughts of an organic, homemade death were thankfully slipping away. When we presented her with the dying animal however, she explained that they don’t have the necessary equipment or skills to administer euthanasia drugs to an injured animal, and then stared at us with a blankness of expression that said "and I couldn’t really give a shit. It's a bird". Taken aback, I stared at my Wife, then at the bird, then at the Woman, then at the poster stapled to the wall next to her head and (before briefly contemplating stapling it TO her head) momentarily considered the acronym sprawled across it’s breadth: Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Clearly their remit didn’t live up to expectation. I thought about my dentist saying "Well we can’t take your broken tooth out because it's infected and will kill you slowly via Sepsis, but we can sell you some toothpaste and give you a leaflet". We asked for the name of a veterinary practice that might be able to help, and making a mental note never to entrust the care of an animal to the SPCA in the future, I got back in the car muttering something about how they must be run by a remote board of NHS chief executives. We left as quickly as we arrived.
Slamming to a halt in the second car park of the day, I peel my forehead off the dashboard and we run to the front door only to find that the last Vet has already left. The practice was closed until Monday. I immediately start going over my Avian-vertebrae-separation technique. My Wife however, does the much more sensible thing and calls the out of hours, emergency phone number. One of the Vets picks up and explains she has literally just arrived home after leaving the very surgery we were standing outside. By this point our options (and by that I mean my options) were narrowing and I was now preparing myself for having to put the bird out of its misery. Just as I had resigned myself to get back in the car and drive home, my Wife’s voice perked up. The Vet on the other end of the phone said she would come back and see what she could do. A grateful sense of relief washed over us both.
Every so often I am surprised by the kindness of a single person. On the dark ocean of humanity that is our species, there is occasionally a solitary light floating on the crest of a wave. Today it was carried by a kindly Woman who clearly deemed the wellbeing of an animal more important than her own needs (as every good Vet should). Within a matter of minutes she had pulled up in her car and was letting us into the building. One quick look and she confirmed what we already knew - the tiny, feathered wraith in front of us wasn’t going to make it. My Wife softly asked if we could have her back to take home and bury in the garden, a request most people would have cruelly stifled a laugh at, but the vet simply returned a look of complete understanding and empathy. She replied with a quiet "of course" before disappearing into a side room with the bird where she would end it's suffering.
Some days you have to see death to feel connected to Life. You could say that today was a tiny crisis in the grand scheme of things, but there would be a terrible injustice in that, a typically human-centric worldview. To this bird it was different. To Her it was everything.
