This morning's walk revealed a young bird standing in the street. The initial delight of being allowed to approach the tiny thing quickly turned to dismay. Uh-oh. The feathered wee beastie was blind, and apparently unable to fly to safety. Herding the creature onto the sidewalk, Walker and I headed on down the street. Having previously discovered a bunny which had suffered play time with her dogs, Walker mentioned that she knew which vets in our area would treat wild animals and strays--- or at least administer the mercy injection. This baby bird was in all likelihood headed for the mercy killing after a terrifying capture and transport to the vet.
After walking, I loaded the girls into the Mom-mobile and dumped ribbon all over the kitchen table to free up the first box I saw for a possible rescue mission. We zoomed out of the drive and cruised down to the corner where the wee birdie was last seen. Only it had failed to stay on the relatively safe sidewalk corner. The blinded thing, too immature to fly yet, had wandered back into the street. There was nothing to do but drive back home with the empty box knowing that the bird's wandering had not really altered the outcome of this day.
Yes, I know my bleeding heart is showing. Yes, I get that whole Circle of Life thing, and I understand why creatures have clutches, litters, etc. in the likelihood that many of their young will not survive. (I am rather glad that the baby bird wasn't a cat toy.) Still. I am sorry for the inability to salvage that young life. So, now I'm off to drown my sorrows in diet soda poolside on this very un-Disney day.