Knowledge.
Today I may have saved a pigeon's life.
Not a big deal to some, perhaps. But when I came out of my final this afternoon and saw a lone pigeon standing still in the middle of the road, I stopped too. Something struck me as wrong about him. I looked closer and realized that he was breathing rapidly and visibly. I stood and watched him for a few minutes, puzzled and concerned. I left my bag behind and stepped out into the street, and still he didn't move away. I got all the way up to him and placed my hands on his feathered back, and at last he fluttered his wings and hopped a foot away, where he resumed standing totally still. I looked back and saw a huge truck starting to turn down the narrow road and retreated back to the sidewalk. The truck driver saw the pigeon standing there and the man frowned, clearly wondering why the bird didn't get out of the way as the massive truck inched closer. The man tightened his turn so that he didn't hit the pigeon, which still failed to move.
Once the truck had gone by, I went back out into the road and without the slightest bit of struggle was able to scoop the pigeon into my hands. I returned to the sidewalk with a hot, dazed pigeon sitting quiescent in my grasp.
"Hey," I asked a passing student, "where's the bio department? I think this bird's sick. I mean, I'm holding it."
The guy looked at me as if I was crazy. "I dunno, back there in those buildings, I think... but it's just a rat with wings, what's the difference? There's a million of 'em anyway." He shrugged and went on his way, and I had been too concerned about the bird to come up with a good retort. (I mean, what's wrong with rats? They're friendly, clever, and exhibit amazing social structure. And what's wrong with pigeons? Who doesn't like a clown of a bird?)
Some workers unloading another truck saw me standing there. "Hey, what's wrong with your bird?" they asked.
"I dunno... I think he's sick." I realized that pigeons are still considered invasive species and that the bio department probably wouldn't do anything for him. "I'm going to put him in the shade here, out of the road, so he doesn't get hit."
"That's a good idea," they said. They were nice guys and didn't act like I was strange for caring about a pigeon.
A girl came up to me. "Oh my gosh," she said. "Is it sick?"
"I think so. He was just standing there in the road, he didn't even move for a truck, and I was able to pick him no problem." And still he was quiet in my hand; I was now holding him with only one, and he didn't resist. The girl and I talked for a few minutes and she said she was going to go back to her apartment to bring him some water and maybe some food. When she left I walked over to a secluded little shady area, and set him down under some bushes far from the road.
I watched him for another 10 minutes, waiting for the girl who never came back. My final guess is that he had a head injury of some kind -- he was displaying all sorts of neurologic symptoms. Head tilting, walking in circles, crab-walking (walking sideways only), bumping into things, flapping his wings as if he had no idea what they were, and even walking straight into branches as if he were blind. I left him there and wondered what would become of him.
I came back to the bushes about an hour and a half later, intending to show Ben the pigeon. But he was gone! The workers said that just a few minutes before he had clumsily flown away into the main park area. I wonder if maybe he wasn't just stunned by a car or something when I found him, and if he was going to be all right after all.
I realized later that out of all the people walking down the sidewalk, coming in and out of the buildings, and passing through the park, that I was the only one who noticed this little pigeon standing in the road and panting. The instant I saw him I knew something was strange about him and I stopped, and watched, and took him from the road to a safe place without worrying about getting my hands dirty, or if he would peck me, or if he was really only just a rat with wings. But to me he was a frightened fellow creature, sick or injured, at that moment unable to care for himself, and my instinct was to go to him and protect him, pigeon or not, common or not, wild or not.
No matter if I get into vet school on my first try, or if it takes me three years, or if I have terrible long days at work where I just want to scream or pass out or cry or punch someone's lights out... this is it.
This is what I'm meant to do.
That's all there is to it.
:)
Not a big deal to some, perhaps. But when I came out of my final this afternoon and saw a lone pigeon standing still in the middle of the road, I stopped too. Something struck me as wrong about him. I looked closer and realized that he was breathing rapidly and visibly. I stood and watched him for a few minutes, puzzled and concerned. I left my bag behind and stepped out into the street, and still he didn't move away. I got all the way up to him and placed my hands on his feathered back, and at last he fluttered his wings and hopped a foot away, where he resumed standing totally still. I looked back and saw a huge truck starting to turn down the narrow road and retreated back to the sidewalk. The truck driver saw the pigeon standing there and the man frowned, clearly wondering why the bird didn't get out of the way as the massive truck inched closer. The man tightened his turn so that he didn't hit the pigeon, which still failed to move.
Once the truck had gone by, I went back out into the road and without the slightest bit of struggle was able to scoop the pigeon into my hands. I returned to the sidewalk with a hot, dazed pigeon sitting quiescent in my grasp.
"Hey," I asked a passing student, "where's the bio department? I think this bird's sick. I mean, I'm holding it."
The guy looked at me as if I was crazy. "I dunno, back there in those buildings, I think... but it's just a rat with wings, what's the difference? There's a million of 'em anyway." He shrugged and went on his way, and I had been too concerned about the bird to come up with a good retort. (I mean, what's wrong with rats? They're friendly, clever, and exhibit amazing social structure. And what's wrong with pigeons? Who doesn't like a clown of a bird?)
Some workers unloading another truck saw me standing there. "Hey, what's wrong with your bird?" they asked.
"I dunno... I think he's sick." I realized that pigeons are still considered invasive species and that the bio department probably wouldn't do anything for him. "I'm going to put him in the shade here, out of the road, so he doesn't get hit."
"That's a good idea," they said. They were nice guys and didn't act like I was strange for caring about a pigeon.
A girl came up to me. "Oh my gosh," she said. "Is it sick?"
"I think so. He was just standing there in the road, he didn't even move for a truck, and I was able to pick him no problem." And still he was quiet in my hand; I was now holding him with only one, and he didn't resist. The girl and I talked for a few minutes and she said she was going to go back to her apartment to bring him some water and maybe some food. When she left I walked over to a secluded little shady area, and set him down under some bushes far from the road.
I watched him for another 10 minutes, waiting for the girl who never came back. My final guess is that he had a head injury of some kind -- he was displaying all sorts of neurologic symptoms. Head tilting, walking in circles, crab-walking (walking sideways only), bumping into things, flapping his wings as if he had no idea what they were, and even walking straight into branches as if he were blind. I left him there and wondered what would become of him.
I came back to the bushes about an hour and a half later, intending to show Ben the pigeon. But he was gone! The workers said that just a few minutes before he had clumsily flown away into the main park area. I wonder if maybe he wasn't just stunned by a car or something when I found him, and if he was going to be all right after all.
I realized later that out of all the people walking down the sidewalk, coming in and out of the buildings, and passing through the park, that I was the only one who noticed this little pigeon standing in the road and panting. The instant I saw him I knew something was strange about him and I stopped, and watched, and took him from the road to a safe place without worrying about getting my hands dirty, or if he would peck me, or if he was really only just a rat with wings. But to me he was a frightened fellow creature, sick or injured, at that moment unable to care for himself, and my instinct was to go to him and protect him, pigeon or not, common or not, wild or not.
No matter if I get into vet school on my first try, or if it takes me three years, or if I have terrible long days at work where I just want to scream or pass out or cry or punch someone's lights out... this is it.
This is what I'm meant to do.
That's all there is to it.
:)