kristiana

I rescued a baby bird yesterday...
He had fallen from his nest and my neighbor's tomcat was stalking towards it and it's mother tried to defend it... The mother was captured and tortured, and I swooped in and grabbed up the baby before the other cat could get to it... I put him in a shoebox with some water and attempted to feed him oatmeal with a tiny plastic spoon. At first he wouldn't eat, but eventually he did eat a little bit.
I sat and pondered "what shall we call you?"
:::Baxter:::
"No, Baxter is an ugly name," I told myself. "What about Ricewind?"
:::Baxter::: my brain said again.
"I really don't like that one... Maybe...Cobalt"
:::Baxter:::
"baxter it is..."
The bird chirped and ate a little more.
I sat the box out on the balcony of my apartment and went and checked on him frequently throughout the day and evening, feeding him more, etc.
In the middle of the night i went out to the balcony to check on him, and there was a half a junebug in the box with him... He appeared subdued, not greating me with hungry chirps.
This morning he was dead... And the junebug was gone...
I would have cried... But I feel responsible... Maybe had I left him on the ground he would have been able to get away from the cats and find shelter beneath a bush. Maybe he would have been able to hunt his own food and not had to rely on nourishment on a june bug (which seems to have been poison?)... maybe he would have learned to fly within a matter of hours or days... maybe i killed him.

OR
maybe he didnt like me at all
and maybe he knew the junebug was bad news
and he ate it to kill himself
so he wouldn't have to live with me another day...

i miss my little blue friend...