I was talking to my mother, settling things about my upcoming trip to europe, when my sister called me, asking me for help taking a dead bird out of our backyar, before our dogs decided (who aparently found it interesting enough to keep smelling it, looking at it etc) to eat him. Before I could answer my brother (who has more stomach for these things) volunteered to do it himself.
After a while I see my brother going out whith my dad's gun, so I asked my sister what was he doing, and she said he was going to kill it, so the bird obviously wasn't dead yet, when I asked why he was killing it, she told me he was agonizing, he couldn't even stand up much less fly.
Before he killed it I steped outside, and saw the bird for myself, it was a very sad thing to see, he was lying down and had a lot of trouble breathing. After seeing the bird I quickly steped inside, ran upstairs to avoid hearing the shot.
When I went back downstairs, where my brother asked me to get rid of the bird (he obviously wasn't feeling very well about what just hapened), I really didn't want to do it (I did get a dead bird of our yard once, but not a shot one, which I was guessing wasn't very pretty). My sister and I steped outside where my brother was whith the bird, and he told us we probably shouldn't get very close (he probably thougth it was too ugly for my sister to see).
While we were outside he told us that the first shot (he aimed for the head to make it faster, and less painfull for the bird) he missed,and the bird tured over, then the 2nd shot he gpot it right, but the bird didn't die, the shot got into the bird's eye, and he said that whith it's other eye it looked at him, so he shot again and it still didn't die, that bird's head was totally deformed but the bird still shaked and moved it's legs like crazy, so he shot a 4th tim, and it finally died. But I'm guessing the hole thing must have been a bit "traumatizing".
After that tale, I definitly didn't want to get rid of him, I didn't want to see how the bird ended up, but I still did..
After that tale, I definitly didn't want to get rid of him, I didn't want to see how the bird ended up, but I still did..
I got the broom and the shovel, and I walked to the bird, On the way there, I decidedto not look at it directly, maybe look at it's feet or something to have an idea of where he was, then I decided that it would be too hard that way, so I decided to force my viewing into geting blurry, so I did, and I standed in front of the bird, ready to get him into the shovel and... I looked.
It wasn't pretty and it felt worse than I thought it would, but it was already done, and the time came to turn him over into the shovel, and while I was doing it I closed my eyes cause it seemed like the worst side was the one that was about to show, but I had to open my eyes to get him into the bag, and it turned out that it wasn't that much worse than the other side.
After this and the other time I had to get rid of the bird, I concluded that a dead animal is the heaviest thing you can fit into a bag, it's not actually heavy, but it feels that way when you first let him fall into the bag, when it hits the bottom, it felt really bad,and it made me feel a bit sad too. And I'm thinking, if this is how it felt for me (which isn't all that bad, but it is a bit) I dont even want to know what my brother felt, not to mention the bird....
Merci, once again
P.S: - the bird bites- I'd like to invite anyone who reads this post to see the post a fellow blogger wrote inspired on my post (she left the link below in the comments, but I just wanted to make sure no one missed it)
