Princess Anna Bananaboat

Yesterday I was hopping the baby gate on my way into the kitchen, when I saw my big black cat at the door wanting in. I reached out to open the door, not realizing that he was packing a passenger. A feathery passenger. I'm not sure you all know just how I feel about birds, but lets just say my general attitude is "look, but don't touch." Birds simultaneously gross me out and fascinate me, with their little beady eyes and pokey beaks, and scaley little bird legs. I like birds, but at a distance, or close up on my terms. Anyway, back to the story. So I let the cat in and he promptly drops, not just a little sparrow, but a freakin quail at my feet. I realize too late that the quail is alive and kicking. It takes off like a shot, careening off my feet and back out the door. Whew, you might think, it is all over. But no, as I watched the horror of four hungry cats chasing the little wounded quail across my porch, my veterinary instincts kicked in.

"Stop it you damn cats!" I yelled, running out into the snow in only my socks. I chased the cats, chasing the quail, all along our deck and into the driveway. My three legged cat, perhaps thinking that this was some kind of awesome kitty special olympics, dove after the quail in a burst of speed I didn't think he was capable of. He trapped the poor thing under a pile of brush in the snow. Thinking that the quail might be safe for a moment, I ran back into the house to get some boots. My bewildered children looked at me like I might have finally gone looney as I ran back outside, coatless to flush the quail out of the brush. It burst out and ran into my garage. The door was frozen shut, apparently only opening enough to allow passage of small game birds. I tore back in the house, found a flashlight, and hunted down the unhappy bird in the garage, finally (ick) capturingn it by the tail feathers, and placing it in a box while the household settled down. As this was all happening, both my phones were ringing and Rowan was screaming for attention. The bird deserved better than that chaos!

Later that night after Wil arrived home, I peaked at the little bird, expecting her to be dead. Yes, it was a her, because the little ding-a-ling on her head was smaller than some of the other quail in our yard, so I am assuming that she was a girl. I decided that since she was still alive, she deserved some medical attention.

And that is how "Princess Anna Bananaboat" (don't ask) was transported emergency to the clinic at 7:30 pm during a small snowstorm. Her skin was torn in several places, but she survived anesthesia and surgery to repair her wounds. I put the tough little nut on a heating pad and left her there for the night. In the morning, she was still alive. Sadly though, she passed away in my hands during her antibiotic treatment a few hours later.

I learned a few things from the short life of Princess Anna Bananaboat. One is that if you are a quail and you don't see a huge black cat stalking you in 2 foot deep snow, you might have an evolutionary flaw. The other is that despite being squeemish about birds, I was able to overcome the ickies to try to save her. This was a real profound moment for me, as lately my job has become stressful and I was begining to wonder if I was suffering from compassion fatigue. This one little quail recharged my comitment to my career, and I will never forget her.