Did I do the right thing? (kinda TMI)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Last night I had a rather unsettling and disturbing experience, so naturally I thought I’d share it with you.

Just before going to bed, I was taking out the garbage when something caught my eye. There, on the ground in front of our garage, was what appeared to be a lump of meat. It was covered in ants and looked pretty gross, but I assumed that it was just a scrap that had fallen out of one of the bins or been scavenged by some of our local wildlife (we get foxes and badgers around here), so I just shrugged and carried on with what I was doing.

However, as I turned, I noticed that the lump was moving. No it wasn’t a trick of the light, and no it wasn’t just the movement of the ants, that horrid little scrap of flesh was moving. Now I wouldn’t call myself particularly squeamish, but my heart started to thud, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and the bile began to rise in my throat. I did not want to know what the hell that freaky little abomination was, but I somehow found my gaze inexorably drawn towards it…

Upon closer, more nauseous examination, the lump turned out to be a fledgling - a baby bird that that had somehow fallen out of its nest, or had probably been kidnapped by on of our cats. It was blind and pink and bloated. There wasn’t a single feather on the thing - it looked like a giblet or an aborted foetus. Worst of all, this poor, repulsive thing was covered in ants and was slowly dying right there on the ground in front of our garage. It was pathetically wiggling one tiny micro-wing and craning it’s blind little head about. In short, it was stomach-churningly horrible.

At first my squeamishness got the better of me and I turned away. I fully intended to just leave it there and forget about the whole thing. I sure as hell couldn’t save the broken little thing, and neither did I want to get anywhere near it - better to just go back inside and get to sleep and put the whole ugly picture out of my mind.

But as I was half-way to the door, I stopped. It was obviously in a lot of pain, blind and mute as it was. It was dying slowly and horribly, either eaten alive by ants or by exposure. While I couldn’t save it, I could certainly end it’s suffereing. So while I knew what i had to do, I certainly didn’t relish the prospect. I knew we had a sturdy shovel in the shed, but that was back around the other side of the house at the other end of an unlit garden path. So i looked around in the garage for something suitable.

After finding a sharp-edged length of metal (the bones of an old desk that had oncle lived in my room), I headed back out front to do what needed to be done…

So there I was, standing over this pathetic little bag of flesh as it writhed and flapped on the ground. I had the end of the metal bar poised just over it’s neck, ready to bring it down sharply and just end it. And there I stood - a grown man, sweating and gritting my teeth at the prospect of ending this tiny life, no matter how noble the cause. My stomach lurched. My hands trembled. The bar hung over him for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn’t do it. But I had to. Screw my selfishness and my pathetic squeamishness, I had to end this suffering quickly.

So I did it. I brought the sharp end of that metal bar down square on the neck and decapitated that little bird in one quick stroke. There was surprisingly little resistance or sound - it was as if I was chopping through a noodle. There was however, a surprising amount of blood. About two tablespoons full of bright red blood leacked out of the severed next and puddled on the ground. A few more nervous twitches and it was all over.

So that’s my story. I got the dustpan and brush out (the long-handled ones, mercifully) and swept that bloated body up, then flung it into the bushes and out of sight. the head was swept down a drain, and the puddle of blood was just left there. The ants scurried around, indignantly looking for their stolen feast. I headed back inside, washed my hands about five times, then tried to get some sleep.

I’m pretty sure I did the right thing. I really hope I did the right thing. (Somebody please tell me I did the right thing!). I couldn’t just leave it there, and neither could I save it. I learned a little something new about myself last night, but not all of it was good…

2

You did do the right thing, in my opinion. But, such is definitely never easy to do.

You have my admiration for your fortitude and caring.

3

I think you did the right thing, hard as it was. You had the courtesy and the courage to end the poor thing’s suffering in the only way you could. Sometimes there are no best, or even good choices, only necessary ones. I wish it were otherwise.

Sending you condolences and support,
CJ

4

Sometime the right thing to do is hard.
You did the right thing.

5

Of course you did the right thing.

You made it suffer less, with the same end.

6

I think you did the right thing.

One day last summer, over the course of three hours, I felt obliged to smash the heads of five mice that my cat was repeatedly bringing in half-dead and distressed.

We’re sentient and have our own moral codes - if that code involves relieving an animal of suffering by killing it, then I think one is justified in doing it (the Jains may disagree…).

7

You did the right thing by my book, Bibliovore.

I had to help do something similar with an injured snake, and it wasn’t fun or pretty. :frowning:

Even though what you did wasn’t nice, all the alternatives were worse, and you went out of your way (and did something guaranteed to make you feel bad) to help another living thing. You did a good deed today. It’s a shame it was the sort of deed that doesn’t lift you as well as the recipient of your gift. Don’t beat yourself up.

8

Yes - you did the right thing. It’s now at peace.

9

Yep, that’s the right thing alright. Go now, and ponder it no more.

10

Birdwatcher and member of the Mass. Audubon Society checking in to tell you yes, you did the right thing, and exactly what I would have done under the circumstances.

11

That was my BABY!

</Mama Bird>

You did a good thing. I probably would have been too grossed out to do anything.

12

You did good.

13

It was a very difficult thing to do, but you did the right thing.

14

While reading your OP, I was fearing that you weren’t going to put the flegeling out of its misery. I prayed (to my atheistic god) that you would come to your senses and do the right thing.

You did. And you did the absolutely right thing.

(However, if it happens a next time, don’t go hunting for a shovel to do the deed. With birds particularly, a quick wring and snapping of the neck achieves the same goal and with less blood and gore.)

Rest easy Bibliovore. The Budgie Gods are looking kindly upon you for your actions.

15

I think you’re asking a bit too much of Bibliovore. He found it difficult enough to kill the bird with a metal bar, imagine having to grab the naked, blind, injured animal crawling with ants and wringing its neck…

I’d go shovel-hunting too.

16

You could have taken it in, washed it under the tap and then raised it as your own. You might have called him Tweedle.
You did the right thing, poor old ants though and their rumbling tums. This remind me I must pick up a couple of poussin on the way home tonight.

17

Yer a right bastard smarm.

:smiley:

18

Sorry…my eyes are playing up tonight…

it’s Smam amd I hunbly apologise for the simspelling.
:smiley:

19

You did the right thing. But if this post was “kinda TMI”, I don’t think I want to know what you reserve for “way TMI”.

20

Thanks all for the kind words. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else. Apart from bugs, this is ( I think) only the second living thing I’ve ever killed in my entire life. The first was a pigeon that I shot with an air rifle when I was younger and much stupider.

Once that pigeon hit the ground and I took a good look at it, I was overwhelmed by how beautiful and fragile it was when viewed up close. I felt truly awful for what I’d done and buried it at the bottom of the garden.

When I told my Dad about it, he looked really disappointed in me and said “I always knew you had a mean streak in you.” He said no more about the matter, but his words stayed with me, and I can’t remember ever deliberately killing or harming anything else to this day.

Today I’m the kind of guy who will pick up snails from the front drive in case they get stepped on. I’ll rescue any live mice that our cats have brought into the house an cornered, setting them free again at the bottom of the garden. I generally love animals, (except the ones with more than four legs!) so killing that bird kinda took me back to the deed I committed in my childhood and shook me up a bit.

Glad I did the right thing, but I was surprised at just how much it affected me. I’d probably never make a good soldier as I’d be wracked with guilt and self-doubt after killing another human being, even in self-defense…

Ah well, life goes on, eh?