Photo by Christi Bradnox.
The two saddest things I ever saw in my life were about birds. The loneliness they feel, the suffering the endure—it can drive you mad. My husband Jack used to hunt, until one day something terrible happened. He shot a duck and it landed in our pond. He was very proud at first, but the next few days were horrible. I don’t know if it was a female or a male that he killed, but the mate showed up seconds later and sat there, in the water, staring at its dead mate. Jack fished out the dead bird, but the other one fought to keep it there. It’s hard to remember it without crying. Jack swears he made eye contact with the bird. For weeks that bird stayed in our pond squawking. Every morning for hours it let out a tortured call up to the sky. My husband never went near a gun after that. We never spoke of it ever.
The same thing happened when I was a child. My grandfather was very eccentric and would often buy us strange pets. He once brought me 15 chicks—baby chickens. It was tricky not to step on them. Another time he bought my brother and I peacocks. Unfortunately, the female died within the first week and the male was very, very hurt. Every morning at five he would call out. Have you ever heard that? It sounds like a trumpet—exactly like a trumpet. It’s maddening. I love birds, but I would never have one as a pet.
JANET THOMSON
