The Queen’s Chronicles: REQUIEM FOR POPPY’S PIGEON

I killed another bird this week. That is to say, that I rescued an injured bird two weeks ago that I was not able to prevent from dying. Again. I do this every spring. Somehow every year I find a fallen baby bird. I take it home and nurse it, but the results are rarely good. On occasion I have raised one to the point when it can fly off on its own. But usually, the ending is not so happy.

In this case, it was a young pigeon still with some baby fuzz and fluffy rust-colored pinfeathers. You never see baby pigeons. The parents keep them totally out of sight until they can be independent. But here was one sitting on the pavement of the parking lot of my building. I had to move it, or it would have been run over. I could have just put it into some bushes, but it surely would have been eaten by the marauding night cats,

I noticed that it had a head wound and also a few on its chest. It had fallen from one of the ledges on the building where pigeons roost. It was very still, perhaps in shock, and let me pick it up. I took it home and cleaned its wounds with peroxide and put it in a box. I tended the cuts and abrasions often, and after a couple of days they were healed.

It became more alert and clearly stronger. The next thing was to feed it. But it refused the gruel that I made from pulverized cat food — the recommended food for baby birds. About five days passed with no food or water. And yet it kept getting better and better. Animals don’t eat when they are sick or injured, so I didn’t force-feed it.

Then I offered it some seeds and he pecked t them. Yea! I took the box outside onto my terrace. He (familiarity changed him from an it to a he) immediately discovered the pan of water that I keep out there for the birds and climbed in. He drank and waded, then pecked some more. Victory!

This went on for days. We had a routine. I took him in at night and covered the box with a dark cloth and then took him outside into the sunshine each day. He walked further and further everyday, exploring, pecking, flapping his wings. But he loved his box and spent most of his time nesting.

Poppy, my little dog was fascinated by him and followed him around. And visa versa. They bonded with each other and I am not sure who imprinted on whom. But they were a team. This was definitely Poppy’s pigeon. She had just had her fifth birthday and I couldn’t have gotten her a better or more beloved present.

All went well. He liked coming into the house and I would usher him back out, not wanting pigeon poop all over. One day I found him in my office. I picked him up and took him back outside. I threw him up a bit and he flew a little. So now it was just a matter of time and he would soon fly away into his adult life.

Two days ago I drank my morning tea on the terrace enjoying the dog and pigeon show. I needed to change clothes to go to the gym and called the dog inside and closed the door. But the two little lovers each ran to the glass door, trying to reach each other through the panes. So I let Poppy back out.

My fatal mistake. A stupid misjudgment. An idiotic lapse of vigilance.

I changed and when I came out to the terrace the bird was dead on the floor and Poppy was cowering under a chair. I couldn’t believe it. Poppy killed her pigeon. She did the deed but the blood is on my hands. It was totally my fault and the guilt is tormenting me. I was furious with her, but much angrier with myself. How could I have let this happen?

Poppy is devastated. Not by guilt. She doesn’t understand what happened, but by grief. She misses the bird and keeps looking for it. I don’t believe it was animal killer instinct. She is not a killer, but a Papillion/Shitzu mix, a lapdog breed. She literally loved him to death.

And I guess that is what I do. I mean well. I want to help, to heal, to rescue, to save, to love all life into health and happiness. And I always succeed, but just to a point and then something happens. I make a mistake of some sort and all is lost.

So what is the lesson? And when will I learn it? They say that one shouldn’t interfere with Nature. But aren’t we all part of Nature? Isn’t it up to each of us to try to save and heal each other? I don’t know the answer. But I do know that I will probably do it again. That is my nature.

Best blessings of healing,

xxQMD