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Jon and I planned a long, lazy Sunday morning. Our first kid free Sunday in ages. Yeah, we’d have to let the dogs out and see that they got fed and medicined, but other than that we were going to take it easy. Jon took the dogs out while I worked on tea. When he came back in the morning plans changed. There was an injured mourning dove outside. Jon had kept the dogs away from it, but he wanted my opinion, was it just a feathered baby that the parents had kicked out of the nest and were still feeding, or was it injured. (Many of the baby birds that people see in their yards are still being fed and cared for by their parents. Leave them alone and watch, and you’ll see. If the baby is mostly naked, no feathers, then you’ve got a problem and the birds may need your help. But most of the time nature is pretty resilient.) The dove was by the water garden, and we had put out seed for it, just in case. Unfortunately, the dove was injured. It was like a small replica of it’s parents, but when it flapped it’s wings to try to fly, it got no lift, and when it folded it’s wings one wing trailed and seemed stiff going back into place. We called the Wild Bird Rehabilitation Center, and asked their opinion. They thought it had broken one of the bones in it’s wing. Easily fixed, and the bird would be ready to release in two to three weeks, if we’d bring it in. If? Jon and I caught the dove and transported it in a brown paper bag (the Wild Bird Center suggestion) and away we went. While we filled in the paperwork, we got a glimpse into the bird nursery. Baby cardinals, baby barn swallows, and some that I wasn’t certain of. It was very cool. The nice lady thanked us for bringing the dove in. Jon said, “It’s what you’re supposed to do.” Apparently, there are people who call in about injured birds, but when they find out that the bird center does not pick up the bird, but that they must bring the bird to them, they refuse. They leave it to die. Evil bastards. Is that too harsh?
Let me say that I understand not wanting to put out the effort. I admit that my first thought after realizing the bird was indeed injured was not, oh, yeah, I have the opportunity to help out one of my fellow creatures. Nope, my first thought was damn. No time for that leisurely cup of tea. No relaxed breakfast. I saw all my plans go up and smoke and I resented it. But . . . we did it anyway. The bird filled my hands, and was so soft. The bird center warned me that the bird might struggle in the bag, but it didn’t. It was very calm. I could feel the weight of it on one side of the bag on the drive over. I admitted outloud in the car how I’d felt about the trip, and Jon said, him too. He’d seen the bird and thought, damn I have to tell Laurell. When all was said and done, we were glad we did it. We were glad we overcame that first grumpy impulse and helped the helpless. The wing is very fixable now, but if left it would have healed wrong and the bird, if a predator didn’t get it, would be flightless for all it’s life. Let’s face it once winter set in a flightless dove wouldn’t survive long. I doubt seriously whether it would have made the first snowfall. Now in less than a month it will be flying and doing the things doves do. We gave it that chance to be the best dove it can be. We’re supposed to help each other, that’s the way the system works. It’s only when we forget that kindness is the rule, not the exception, that everything goes wrong. We lost our leisurely morning, but one little bird got it’s life back. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.