Fuzzy came home from school on last Friday and sat down next to me at the dining room table to start his homework.
We heard a 'whap' against the window and I caught a glimpse of the bird as it hit. I jumped up and saw the beautiful little thing on the ground and the blue jay in pursuit. I got out in time to chase the blue jay away, but apparently the fight had started elsewhere, and just ended under our window, because the little bird was stunned and bleeding from underneath.
I gently picked up the injured bird and moved it to the front yard away from the stalking blue jay. The jay didn't follow, thankfully. I gently placed the bird down in the towel I had it in, but I was hesitant to investigate under its feathers; I am not familiar with bird injuries or care.
By now, Fuzzy was next to me with tears in his eyes. I asked him, 'Do you want me to call the vet to see if they will try to help him?', he nodded - yes, and I ran into the house.
The vet gave me a different vet's number that is properly licensed to care for wild animals, before this, I didn't know that there were different licenses regarding non-pet care. The wild animal vet said to bring the bird right away, and their office staff sounded very kind.
I got a box, and grabbed my dad's car keys, since my hubby was at work with my truck. Fuzzy got in the back and buckled up and I handed him the box with the bird, still partially wrapped in the towel. He gently put his hands around the bird to hold it calmly, and to keep it from trying to move and injure itself further - it was all I could think to do.
Fuzzy was still fighting those tears in his eyes, and I tried to drive as quickly and safely as I could. It was just about 15 minutes to this vet.
We were about 7 minutes into our trip, and in the middle of the highway, when the little bird had a seizure and died in Fuzzy's hands. I never heard my son so panicked, so I tried to reassure him that maybe it was not dead, just passed out, but he was truly hysterical and positive it was no longer breathing.
I got to the vet in 12 minutes, but it was too late. The bird had died. The vets office staff was very nice, and I am very glad I know about them now, they checked the bird immediately, but I already knew it was gone.
Fuzzy and I sat in the car a bit and cried together. He was very distraught and kept repeating it wasn't fair. He is right, it was not fair.
It would seem that he is cursed with my sensitivity and love for animals. I remembered the first time that I went through this with wild baby rabbits that were injured, it was awful, I can still cry about that myself today.
And, so, all night, I told him all the things we say when this happens to animals or people, that sometimes an injury is fatal, and that even if we had gotten there in time, death may have been inevitable, that this is the circle of life, and nature is not always pretty and serene, sometimes, it is the survival of the fittest, and it is ugly and hard and sad.
And, I told him that for the last minutes of that beautiful little birds life, it knew that it was safe, and cared for, and loved, and sometimes, that is all we can do, and that it is enough.
Fuzzy couldn't get to sleep, so he climbed in bed with me, and we talked and finally, he fell asleep with me rubbing his back and holding his hand.
It was a tough way to start a weekend, and it didn't end too well for him either, but more on that in the next entry....