Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Avian History X

One time a little bird flew smack into our window and fell onto the balcony. It laid there for a while, so I figured it was dead. But when I went out to pick it up, it looked like it was still trying to breathe a little. It was so sad.

I wasn't really sure what you're supposed to do in that situation. The boyfriend thought I should leave it alone. But I felt bad just leaving it there in pain while I watched it die through the window. I had to do something. My suggestion was that I should put it out of its misery by taking it downstairs and just giving one quick, very unpleasant, stomp.

This horrified the boyfriend. (I think maybe because he grew up in a city.) We compromised by going out to run some errands. If the bird was still suffering when we returned, then I would play Dr. Kevorkian.

When we got back I checked the balcony. The bird was gone. It seems I was about to curb stomp a little bird who was just a little bit dazed. And maybe had a headache.

Perhaps life and death decisions should not be left to me in the future.

P.S. This:

I have a complicated relationship with birds.

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