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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
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Technically Rachel
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Thursday, October 20, 2005
A few weeks ago I saved the life of a wood pigeon.
There’s a little woodland place next to the studio I currently work at – home to a whole range of birds and woodlandy type creatures – and occasionally they venture into the studio grounds. Walking back to my car just before dusk I noticed two birds crash to the ground. Initially I thought it was a bit of late year mating, but then noticed one of the birds was clearly in distress. I ventured over only to see one bird drag the other further away. Odd behaviour. On closer inspection I realized the bigger bird was a hawk, and had pinned a wood pigeon. I knew if I walked towards it, it would fly away and leave the pigeon be, as it was blatantly too big to fly away with. Maybe this was the wrong choice – after all, a hawk deserves to eat. But in the moment I saw a defenceless creature being attacked and marched over. The hawk flew off, no doubt silently cursing the nasty human that had botched up its supper plans. I approached the pigeon – suddenly worried in case it had been maimed beyond repair and that I had left it suffering. Would I have to do one of those weird nature program things and snap its neck to show it mercy? Not something I’d imagine going very well.
However, on closer inspection the bird seemed fine – not a mark on it. I bent down to check and despite a fast rate of breathing and no doubt a racing heart, all was well. Being in such close proximity to a creature who’s life I had saved was a weird moment, and I leant over and stroked its wings gently, whispering comfort noises and hoping it would get itself together and fly off before the hawk came back. After a few moments, it calmed and flew off to live its second life (for having come so close to death how else could a little pigeon view it). I stood and watched it fly, and despite misgivings about interfering in nature’s way, I felt I’d done the right thing.
And now I’ve been thinking.
What if the little bastard had bird flu?!
8:05 am
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