Jun 12 2008
Saving Sarah: the Joy of Saving a Life
Global warming is set to be the villain of the 21st century. Unless oil prices bankrupt us all, so we can’t run anything to create the pollution. But is there an upside?
Sunday, June 1st, Ania and I spent eight hours online searching for a sightseeing-packed summer holiday. Finally, we plumped on the U.S..
We found the cheapest flight, cheapest car hire, and plotted a route to include such wonders as the Grand Canyon, Yosemite and Yellowstone. Over the next week, we verified a few facts, then Saturday, went online to book everything.
Within seconds we were as miserable as sin. And one of us was swearing profusely. (I’ll let you guess which.)
The flight we needed had rocketed by £160 ($320). We were already over budget, so that bust everything.
We returned to scouring the web, vainly hoping a cheap flight would miraculously appear.
But miracles just don’t happen, do they?
Global warming and greedy oil barons had ruined our summer!
Five hours later, we were on the verge of giving up when an ad led us to a car hire firm we’d originally dismissed as too expensive. Lo and behold, it was exactly £160 cheaper, so covering the flight increase.
We couldn’t believe it. As was evident by us repeatedly submitting our info to re-calculate the cost.
But every result was the same fantastically low price.
We booked our holiday.
After being cooped up all day, we went for a stroll in a nearby park, relieved, but mystified by the £160 increase then matching £160 saving.
Immediately we entered the park we saw an old bird staggering about, feathers bedraggled, looking like it hadn’t eaten for a month.
Always moved by suffering, Ania cringed and muttered, “Oh God, no.”
As the bird hobbled away, we realised it wasn’t old but young and under-developed. Too under-developed - it would die before it had even lived.
Ania couldn’t bear that. She couldn’t look.
Everyone says you should leave a nestling alone as its parents will invariably save it.
In the wild, maybe. But in a park frequented by cats, dogs, and urban foxes? (Not to forget morons who’d see a defenceless animal as a great toy.)
Bugger that!
I caught the bird. We took it home and sat it in a ‘nest’ of an ornamental flowerpot. I stroked its head to calm it, then hand-fed it minced beef. And christened it Sarah. Sarah the crow.
We knew if she made it through the night she’d survive but I dreaded what I was going to find 7:00a.m Sunday.
I needn’t have.
Sarah was no helpless, gaping-mouthed nestling.
Her tenacity for exploration was matched only by her food tossing ability. And if there’s a Guinness record for the number of poohs in one day, she’d be unchallenged.
Unfortunately, though boisterous and adventurous, she had no idea of how to drink, and eating was simply a case of pushing food around with her beak then giving up with frustration and a still empty belly.
There was only one solution: hand-feeding her every hour from 6:00a.m. till 9:00p.m..
But hand-rearing means contact and contact means bonding.
Over the next four days, she learned to drink and how to peck food from a bowl. Okay, 50% still ended up on the carpet, but the other 50% ended up inside her. Strangely, boiled egg was her favourite dish. Cheshire cheese and minced beef coming close seconds.
Monday, I let her go walkabout only for her to commandeer our bathroom. She loved perching on a small box underneath the washbasin.
We found her fascinating:
- her constant preening
- bravely trying to fly despite endless failures
- sleeping standing up
- poking a towel to ‘build’ a nest
- learning to eat, to drink.
It was all a rare spectacle, and a privilege, we truly savoured.
Which made what we had to do utterly heartrending.
She’d never soar the skies, hunt for food, nor find a mate with the life we could offer her.
Ania cried when we handed her over to Three Owls bird sanctuary. Luckily, guys don’t have emotions. At least on the surface.
In the past, I’ve tried to save birds that have been hit by cars, orphaned hedgehogs, field mice. That’s ‘tried’ to save…
But this time? This time Ania and I have made a real difference by giving life and a future to a creature that was all but dead. Seconds earlier or seconds later and we would never have found Sarah. Unless it was the next day - scattered feathers and a few bloody bones.
Who says good guys never win?
And all because the threat of global warming and greedy oil barons ruined our carefully constructed plans.
Of course, if the price increase had been half, just £80, we’d have complained, but paid it. And not been in the park.
And of course, if the increase had been double, £320, we’d have admitted defeat and cancelled. And not been in the park.
But it wasn’t half or double. And the increase exactly matched the car hire saving that hadn’t existed the week before.
Which all begs a very obvious question - did events conspire to ensure we were in that exact place at that exact time?
- Was it fate?
- God?
- Karma?
- The universe?
Or mere coincidence?
We can guess. But we’ll never know.
One thing I do know, though, is this little bird reminded me of what life is all about.
- Is it having a bigger plasma screen than your neighbour?
- How many zeroes are on the end of your bank balance?
- How many employees you have under you?
Or is the answer is far, far simpler than that? And far easier to attain.
- Life is about the marvel of life. If you can grasp that simple concept, you really have discovered a magic key to a world of wonder.
Have a wonderful life, Sarah. Thanks for gracing ours with yours, my little friend.
So go. See. Feel. Live.
Steve
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