Last night and this morning weren't great. V is a true hunter, ever since I rescued him 8 months ago he has been bringing home all sorts of dead and alive animals. Usually the birds (from small cute birds to huge pigeons, and one time a poor white dove of peace) are offered to me already dead and the reptiles and grasshoppers (huge huge ones by the way) come alive and in time for me to save their lives.
Last evening, around 10 pm, while I was preparing myself to go to bed V came into the bathroom calling me and "asking" me to follow him. Me and my cat speak to each other okay? So I follow him in to the kitchen, I had to get my tea anyway, and as I turned on the lights I saw the usual but always unexpected and disturbing scenario of feathers and mud everywhere. And of course a huge dead pigeon under the table. Because it had been raining the kitchen was specially messy. I called John to take the dead bird off the floor so I could clean, but when he got closer he realized that the pigeon was still alive. That's news! John and Granny wrapped him in a blanket a put him in a shoe box. Then we gave him water and bread crumbs. The bird was very alive but we didn't really know the extent of his injuries, so after letting him rest for a bit, and me freaking out and crying a lot, we decided to take him outside to see if he could walk or fly or do anything. I was really nervous, so when we were outside John carried him the whole time. As soon as he put the bird on the ground the poor creature fell face down. It was really disturbing and sad. We understood right away that the pigeon was in a bad shape, but because it was almost midnight and we don't have a car, we couldn't take him anywhere, we decided to take him back home and make him comfortable through the night. I made him a worm bed and we gave him more water and bread crumbs. We kept checking on him during the night. In the morning I gave him water but he did't eat. I called my Grandma to ask if she could drive me to a place I found where they accept and treat injured wild animals. Of course she said yes because my Grandma is a saint and she is always there for me. Maybe it's time for me or John to get a car! Granny can't anymore and Grandma already drove me for a lifetime (in case I'm not making this clear enough, Granny and Grandma are my two beloved grandmothers).
I have to be honest and say I cried a lot during this night and day. I love and respect animals so much, and all life in general, that it made me really upset to see an animal in these circumstances and not being able to do anything for him. The reason why I didn't take him to the vet so they could cure or kill him was because it was Sunday, and where I live everything closes on Sundays. The one place I could reach by telephone, the veterinarian hospital of my city, they basically told me to snap his neck. Even though I've seen many pigeons be killed by my great-grandfather (we used to eat the younger ones, like we eat the baby cows) I never learned how to kill and this time wasn't going to be the first. I did't have enough knowledge to decide on this creature's life or death. I couldn't do it just because people think that there are too many pigeons out there and they are rats with wings and blá blá blá. So I decided to keep him comfortable and take him to the rescue place as soon as I could.
Sadly the bird died while I was waiting for my grandma to arrive. I hope he didn't suffer a lot and that my decisions regarding his life didn't harm him, even more than what my cat had already done. I really did my best. I even named him André but John and Granny weren't happy about that.
Everyone was saying that it's dead and it doesn't care so I should just put the cadaver in a plastic bag and throw it in the garbage. John and I buried the pigeon. It was sad but I'm glad we did it.
I must not forget to go to my father's house to return the shovel.
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