Musings on my neverending quest for sugar

Recalling my little dude

Last semester, I found an injured pigeon sitting in front of Hahn after an AAMP workshop. At first I thought it was sick, since I didn't see any blood. (It was 10PM) People surrounded it while it sat there, obviously feeling pity for the poor animal but not sure what to do. Wracked with my overpowering mothering instinct, I went back to the dorm and sought Laurel for advice. Afterwards, intent on doing something, I returned to Hahn with a cardboard box and a towel. It didn't struggle when I picked it up with the towel and put it into the box. Laurel came by to check it out (being the pre-vet extraordinaire that she is) and that was when we discovered a large gash on its underside. After some deliberation, I decided that I would call the nearby vet's office and ask them what I could do.

And so I had an injured pigeon sitting in a box in my room overnight. I didn't name it; I don't have a talent for naming things. I named my guinea pigs Squee and Dot for gosh sakes. But I called my new feathery companion "little dude" when I lifted up the towel covering the box to check on it. Matt scolded me for keeping it, saying that I would become upset if it died during the night. That certainly looked possible. In talking to several people who saw it earlier, I found that it had been sitting there in front of Hahn, bleeding from a large gash in its belly, since about 3PM that day. Seven hours. At least. That's a long time to be standing outside, bleeding.

But it didn't die. In the morning it was still there, standing and peering up at me with its good eye. That was another thing I found: the pigeon's left eye looked like it was always closed. I'm not sure if it even had a left eye to begin with.

The receptionist at the vet's office told me that I could donate the pigeon to them and that they could take care of it until it got well. Despite being a little skeptical, I decided that it was the only thing I could do, since I didn't know how to take care of a hurt pigeon. They took the box into the back and that was the last I saw of my little dude.

I don't know how my little dude is doing. Maybe it died, or maybe it's currently flying free, taking advantage of the one ability us humans wish we had.

But, I will never forget the wonder I felt every time I looked at it sitting in the box. Here was a bird, a creature who normally shunned humans, living a life we can only dream of. So separate from us, yet I felt a connection when I saw it in the box. It was like keeping a little piece of freedom safe - freedom that was cut down that day and left to die. It never panicked when I put my hand into the box to give it water and food. My little dude just sat meekly in the corner, seeming to be a little unsure of the goodwill it was receiving. Animals are like that. They can't speak on human terms and seem to live on a different plane than we do. But I'm always fascinated by them, by the life that they contain. Life itself is amazing. I wonder how many people think about that every day. I most certainly do.

Or maybe it's my overpowering mothering instinct again. Funny how I feel it most with animals instead of human children. I'm usually not sure how human children will react in any situation. Hopefully when I have my own I'll have this figured out.

posted by sugarfiend @ 10:51 PM