Cry

This is a sad story, and I have been putting off writing it for a few days now. This happened on Thursday. What you are looking at is the last moments of this poor little duck. One of the workers from maintenance flagged me down on Thursday morning, asking what we do about injured ducks. What we normally do, if we manage to catch an injured bird of any kind, we take them to the vet on Railway Ave, as they have an agreement with a bird sanctuary that heals them, then releases them back to the wild. He said that a car didnt see the ducks on the road and had hit one, up by the railway crossing. It couldnt walk and could barely flap its wings. Crows were hanging around her and he was worried they would start attacking. I went over with a bucket to see, and there she was. A little woodland duck, frightened half to death, staring wide eyed at me. I picked her up, her neck was lolling about and she couldnt hold her head up. She could open her wings, but had no strength. Her back was most likely broken and it was pretty clear, she wasnt going to live. I wanted to get her away from the crows that were hanging about, as they are notoriously unkind birds. I had to hold her wings while I walked her back to the bunker, as she struggled and made herself worse. At the bunker, she went limp and I held her head in my hands til her breathing stopped. This photo was taken in the last few minutes of her life. Just as she started closing her eyes.

I do not question the fact that I hastened her end, the terror she must have felt from this whole ordeal would have most likely killed her long before her broken body would have given in. I spoke as soothingly as I could and was as gentle as possible. I know its a duck, to all of you out there who are reading this and wondering why Im getting all sentimental over a wild duck. However, it is still a living creature and did not deserve to die in such a fashion, it must have been so very frightening for her. So my reasoning for putting off writing this blog has been: should I have left her die in peace? The crows were near her, but not yet attacking. Was it worth the gamble? or did I do the right thing by removing her from the potential pecking and attacking from them, making her die from fright? What is best? To die from potentially being attacked, while suffering from painful internal wounds? or to die in the arms of a large creature, with no clear motives, speaking an alien tongue?