Jul 252011
It's a bird.

This little tale isn’t really going to go anywhere; there’s no twist at the end nor a thought provoking moral lesson. But what took place this morning was somewhat unusual, so I thought I’d write it down in the hope that it may turn to be interesting or even funny. I’ve also not posted in a little while and this is all that I’ve got.

I’d just got out the shower to hear the front door bell ring and so answered dressed just with a towel wrapped around my nether regions. On the way to the door I heard a very loud thud but I thought no more about it preoccupied as I was with answering the door somewhat exposed. At the front door there was a delivery man who informed me that the loud thump had been a bird flying into my kitchen window. And that I had a delivery. Well the delivery wasn’t for me, it was for my housemate. This would not be the biggest disappointment of the day. After signing for the package and putting on some clothes, I went to investigate.

There was indeed a bird in the garden, lying on the plants below the kitchen window. It was not in a good way. Now I had always imagined that if a bird or other animal was in distress I would do whatever needed to be done do to aid the injured animal and ensure it’s recovery back to full health. There would almost certainly be a cardboard box, a blanket and a call to the RSPCA involved. Perhaps a few weeks of tender care involving some feeding with a pipette before the animal was released back to roam the wild or more likely it choose to stay with me, a friend for life. But it didn’t really turn out like that.

The bird wasn’t moving. I had no idea if it was dead or just unconscious. I went in for a closer look and there were mites or similar such insects crawling through its feathers. Seeing if it had a heartbeat much less any form of resuscitation was off the agenda. So what to do? My main concern was the fact that I was late for work. Terrible I know. Why didn’t I care more? I could only think, well, it’s just a dead bird.

Now, I couldn’t leave it there on the ground so I got an old towel and very carefully lifted it off the ground and with the towel for a blanket I left it on top of the bin. Now I considered throwing some water on it to wake it up but then I thought how that would be slightly ridiculous. It had smashed into a window and was probably dead. My only knowledge of rousing someone (or thing) from an unconscious state was from TV and films. But neither water, smelling salts or a slap seemed appropriate. I wonder how many more situations I will face in my life where I release that I know absolutely nothing about what to do because TV had fooled me in to thinking I knew something but in fact it was all merely ridiculous lies. Reality eh?

So I left the bird on the top of the bin (with the towel as a blanket) and went to work. I didn’t really think there was anything I could do or even wanted to do. I didn’t think I could justify coming in to work late and quite frankly I didn’t want to go to work late. When I was younger there was no way I would have left that bird and I wonder when it came to be that I didn’t really care. Although if it had been a cat or dog I would have rang the RSPCA. But if you’d asked me yesterday about whether I would have rang the RSPCA for an injured bird, I would have said yes.

Now I think a key factor here is that the bird was probably dead. If it had been obviously alive and injured I couldn’t have let it suffer. But I didn’t know, definitely, that it was dead, I just guessed it was. But what kind of a call would that have been? Hello, is that the RSPCA? I have a bird that I think is dead but it might just be suffering from massive brain trauma. Could you send round your top bird neurologist? Cheers.

So all day at work I wondered what would await me when I got home. Would it be there dead, would it have flown away or would it be in the jaws of a cat looking at me, blinking (do birds blink?) and just before it passed on it would say “Andy, you could have saved me. You bastard.” Great, I’ve just let the world’s first talking bird die.

Anyway, to cut it short, when I got home, it was lying there, dead. So I put it in the bin.

True story.

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