Good or bad? Ignorantly infered plan for sure…
Shuffling thru the lot from my car to front door of work, I nearly trod upon some darkish avian breed. I found it curious that it didn’t float off upon my approach, and owing to my aversion to avian and rodent ambulatory limbs, I wasn’t sure if the curly- Q foot was out of place.
My connection to the animal world is a pretty mixed bag. The best theological way to describe me is probably Buddhist Lite, so while not preferable, I may come back as say a deer or a rabbit or a hog in my next life. At the same time, the only arachnidish thing I have a smidgen of fear of is that sadistic Lone Star Tick(look it up-I would almost certainly die or have enough epi-pen addict tracks for henna art). I have no problem killing something for the meat, primarily due to a deep love for venison, but would rather not even have to worry about whether a harvest is a trophy animal I’d feel pressured to preserve.
As the awful slob I am, I had a raggedly old running shirt in my car that couldn’t lose my musky scent with a thousand washes. The birdy had no problem flap hopping into the shirt’s powder blue cradle, so I carried him/her/Casey to our grassy back lot. Fearing Casey might get overlooked if the lawn got mowed soon, I put C down in the place where grass and gravel met. So I did it! Right?
If it’s wing is broke, C is probably screwed. If it’s foot is broke,,, fuck if I know.
Only problem with my new home for C: about twice a week a delivery van delivers thru the back way. I warn the delivery van to avoid C when he comes by. He inquires about the bird and asks if I don’t maybe want him to make a wide turn, that it may just be the kindest option. I advise against it but let him know I wouldn’t fault him for it.
I hear him pull up to the back doors, I open them, and he says, “I couldn’t do it. But just saw him at the last second anyway,” He half -ass committed to at least not avoiding C on the way out. C was still sitting there after he pulled out of the lot. Not long later, a friend joined C.
After conversing with my co-workers, I realized C’s friend could maybe help out with food, but not water. Being me, and it being Summer, I began to worry. I broke out my pocketknife and made a bowl out one of our complimentary disposable coffee cups. I filled my bowl with water and carefully carried it out to where C was. Was. Now gone.
Did Casey gain its strength back and fly off? Hopefully. I saw one of C’s friends, so there’s a chance they could help out until C was self sufficient. There’s also the distinct possibility that a neighborhood feline had itself a meal. And that’s less ideal, but at least the cat got a fresh meal.