Teaching By Example

This past week has been a beautiful week here in Oregon with temperatures in the high 70’s and bright, clear skies. It’s about this time when we let our cats out, as they’ve had cabin fever all winter and spring. Our cats usually don’t wander too far from home. In fact, of our three cats, we only have one who has wanderlust. Amazingly, though, he hasn’t wandered too far away since the one time he ended up in another neighborhood and some Good Samaritans called us to come get him. Heh.
Well, the cat still hasn’t wandered far, however, he did happen upon a nest of scrub jays. I don’t know where it was, although our neighbors say it was in their tree. But I never saw the nest. What did happen was a little traumatic, though. My kitty grabbed one of the baby scrub jays and brought it back into the house. Alive.
My kids were yelling for me because they heard some screaming chirps and didn’t know what was going on. I went downstairs only to find the cat toying with a baby bird that didn’t know how to unfurl its own wings yet. It still had it’s grey feathers, but was just beginning to grow it’s blue ones.
After chasing the cat through the house (because he’d grabbed it again and took off), I picked it up and examined it for wounds. It wasn’t bleeding, and didn’t cry out when I moved it’s wings or legs, but finding it’s nest and putting it back was pretty much impossible at that point. I had no idea where it was, and even so, my cat now knew the location.
And to make matters worse, when I went outside to look for the nest, my damn cat scooted by me despite my kicking to keep him in the house. I suppose juggling an injured bird and the back door is a situation a determined cat can take advantage of. After searching for the cat and the nest to no avail, he came back a few minutes later – with another baby bird in his mouth, the bastard!
The second little bird was dead, the poor thing.
After yelling at and smacking my cat, I kept thinking to myself, what am I going to do now with the poor little bird I was holding? I mean, the thing was pathetic, opening it’s little beak as if I were it’s Mama giving it food. I scoured the back and front yards for a place to put it where it wouldn’t get found by my dog or cats, but that “place” was not to be found. I laid it in a crook in a tree just on the other side of our backyard fence, but I still didn’t feel good about it.
Going back inside, I felt more and more guilty just leaving it out there. Despite it’s injuries, it was going to die anyway, whether by getting found by an animal, or just starving without it’s mother. As I was doing dishes, that little voice in my head kept on nagging… “Just call the vet! What could it hurt? See what they say.”
FINE! If it will let me feel better, I’ll call the danged vet. They suggested I call the Audubon Society, as they don’t take random birds. I look it up online and give them a call. Sure, they’ll take the bird! And I don’t even have to pay a fee or anything – they just ask for donations.
Unfortunately, they’re 15 miles away, and it’s already 3:45pm, people are getting ready to come home from work and I know by the time I get home I’ll have to hurry up and make dinner. Well, I’ve already wasted most of the afternoon looking for the nest, and I figure I’ve come this far with the little thing, I should get it the help it needs. And despite the pain in the butt, it’s a good lesson for the kids to learn.
You see, in my mind, I can’t profess to live what I believe if I don’t help out the baby bird. Sure, some could argue to let nature take its course, but all I could think about was my Bible verses… “His eye is on the sparrow” and whatnot, meaning, God watches over every creature of His creation and they all are important to Him. Who am I to decide if that bird should die in my backyard?
So, I pack up all the kids and take a drive to the Wildlife Care Center with the birdy all snug in some crocheted dishtowels. Once we get there, they take my info and take the bird, dishtowels and all, giving me a number just in case I wanted to check on the little guy later on.
I decided to call them today to see how he was doing. He survived the weekend, but unfortunately, he died early this morning.
You might think all I did for the little bird was in vain, but I don’t believe that. I made the decision to help the little guy, and the people at the Audubon Society were more than happy to help him out as well. But his injuries were too extensive in the long run, and ultimately, it was the Good Lord who decided to take him, not my lack of intervention.
Sure, maybe I did “waste my time” in trying to save a little bird who would have died anyway. But I taught my kids a valuable lesson; that we should take care of God’s creation, no matter how insignificant (a common scrub jay) they may be. A life is a life and it’s our responsibility to help out if we can. Hopefully, they’ll take from this experience to be kind to animals and be good stewards of nature.
Godspeed, little Jay. May you be flying the skies of Glory!
~~Becka
Wildlife Care Center
503-292-0304
www.audubonportland.org
urbanwildlife@audubonportland.org









