I was telling a neighbor the other day about my experience with a baby bird that died before my eyes. I heard something hit my window hard, and when I looked outside, I saw a baby robin lying in the shrub just underneath the window, where he landed after he hit. In the time it took me to wonder what I could possibly do for him (take him to a vet? an animal hospital?), I saw him make his last three chirps, and then he lay still.
The mother robin was nearby, squawking for her baby. She couldn’t figure out what happened to him, because she hadn’t seen, and couldn’t see him in the bush. I figured if I laid him out on the ground so she could see him, she would understand that he was gone and stop looking. So I did that, but she just kept squawking.
It was hot out, and even though it didn’t make sense, I eventually moved him into the shade, but still in plain sight of the mother robin so she could see her baby. I wanted so much to somehow let her know that her baby wasn’t coming back. I was doing yard work outside for hours after this happened, but even later in the day I could hear the mother’s high-pitched cries, looking for her baby. It was heart-wrenching.
Finally when the flies started descending on the baby bird, I figured that was enough. The poor little guy didn’t have a long life, but I wasn’t going to let him lose his dignity in death. I put him to rest somewhere where he would not be food for the rest of the food chain. They could find their meal elsewhere, but not him, not today.
I tried not to think about that poor mother robin, forever wondering what happened to her baby that she will never find, and what that must be like. I wonder if robins have been given the gift of a short memory so that she will move on with her life and forget him. Or will she always wonder, for the rest of her brief life, what happened to her baby who simply disappeared one day?
This incident made me think of something I witnessed many years earlier driving to work one day that also struck me. I happened to drive by a squirrel acting agitated in the road. As I slowed down, I could see he kept running out to another squirrel in the middle of the road that wasn’t moving, and presumably dead. Every time a car would go by, the squirrel would run back to the safety of the grass, but after the car passed, he would run back out into the road again to be with the other squirrel. He was probably wondering why she wouldn’t get up and move to safety, not realizing that it was too late for her.
And then of course I had to read this story about the grieving dog that wouldn’t leave its dead companion for 14 hours after she was struck and killed by a car.
I think it’s sadder when animals lose someone they love, because they don’t really understand what happened and why their companion is gone. They grieve, I’m sure of it. But they don’t understand. At least we humans have the benefit of understanding that when someone we love dies, they aren’t coming back, but other than that, we don’t necessarily understand much more than the animals do.
For anyone, animal or human, it’s hard to understand how someone could be there one minute, and gone the next, just like the baby bird. One second he’s flying free, following his mama, and the next he’s broken his neck because he took a bad turn into a window.
It made me think of how life can change in an instant for anyone. It is a good reminder to cherish the ones you love and the moments you have with them because you never know how long those people or those moments will be in your life. And you never know what strange twist of fate awaits anyone, including yourself.
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