Growing up
I have often thought of myself as still a kid. My childhood goal of being a cat when I grow up still stands. But today, I realized through my actions that I am very different than I used to be. Somehow, that, as much as the situation itself, makes me sad.
On the way back from class, I saw a guy poking at something on the pavement. As I got closer, I saw it was a creature. He explained that a bat had been hiding in the containers that the nearby crew had been moving, and that it had been partially crushed when one was dropped on it. The little brown bat lay there, repeatedly screeching. I looked at it, and saw one wing irrevocably mangled. I tried not to look any closer after making that judgement, but some part of me still saw the tiny sharp rows of perfect white fangs, the short fur that must be mouse-soft. The terror as it continued to cry, outstretched on an unfamiliar surface under an intimidating and foreign sun.
The man said "somebody better run it over, or something," and continued to stare at it. Two other men who did not seem to speak English were also nearby, ogling at it occasionally, or prodding it with a toe. The first man continued rambling on, about how it had been really crushed and its internals might be damaged, etc. I don't know for sure what he said, because I stopped listening mid-sentence, and said "I'll go get something."
I returned with a brick. I raised and lowered it twice, the second harder than the first, in quick succession. I did what I felt was the best and kindest choice, and then I stopped thinking about it as soon as possible. I tried not to look afterwards, and will not describe to you what I saw. The brick broke when I threw it back on the pile of bricks.
I managed to put it out of my mind for most of the day. I have a bookmarker with a bat on it, but I don't think I'll be using it for quite a while. I feel sorrow for the little Myotis lucifugus, but I do not think I did wrong.
The 12 year old me would not have been able to fathom the 31 year old me being capable of doing something so "terrible." Part of me still rails that it might have been ok, it might have been fixable, maybe I should have put it somewhere dark and safe and seen if it got better...
So, I had a bad day, but not as bad as a particular bat's.
I am working hard and running low on sleep. And I should go get in the shower so I can wash today off and go to bed.
On the way back from class, I saw a guy poking at something on the pavement. As I got closer, I saw it was a creature. He explained that a bat had been hiding in the containers that the nearby crew had been moving, and that it had been partially crushed when one was dropped on it. The little brown bat lay there, repeatedly screeching. I looked at it, and saw one wing irrevocably mangled. I tried not to look any closer after making that judgement, but some part of me still saw the tiny sharp rows of perfect white fangs, the short fur that must be mouse-soft. The terror as it continued to cry, outstretched on an unfamiliar surface under an intimidating and foreign sun.
The man said "somebody better run it over, or something," and continued to stare at it. Two other men who did not seem to speak English were also nearby, ogling at it occasionally, or prodding it with a toe. The first man continued rambling on, about how it had been really crushed and its internals might be damaged, etc. I don't know for sure what he said, because I stopped listening mid-sentence, and said "I'll go get something."
I returned with a brick. I raised and lowered it twice, the second harder than the first, in quick succession. I did what I felt was the best and kindest choice, and then I stopped thinking about it as soon as possible. I tried not to look afterwards, and will not describe to you what I saw. The brick broke when I threw it back on the pile of bricks.
I managed to put it out of my mind for most of the day. I have a bookmarker with a bat on it, but I don't think I'll be using it for quite a while. I feel sorrow for the little Myotis lucifugus, but I do not think I did wrong.
The 12 year old me would not have been able to fathom the 31 year old me being capable of doing something so "terrible." Part of me still rails that it might have been ok, it might have been fixable, maybe I should have put it somewhere dark and safe and seen if it got better...
So, I had a bad day, but not as bad as a particular bat's.
I am working hard and running low on sleep. And I should go get in the shower so I can wash today off and go to bed.