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May 23, 2005
Rest In Peace, Oh Little Clarice
If you are unaware of li'l Clarice please read this post first.
The word is now out. I am the worst baby mama ever. Well, maybe not as bad as Susan Smith or Andrea Yates or Jessica & Ashlee Simpson's mom but I am up there. Little Clarice died while in my care.
We became aware of Clarice's existence in our patio on Tuesday evening. We left her alone for two days so the mom could help her out and let nature take its course. We also did some online research about caring for a baby starling. I would like to inform Ms. Bonner that soggy dog food is recommended as a good food source for fledgling starlings. Look it up, beeeee-yotch. We also read that if the mom does not show up for 2 hours then we should help it out. We did.
It began to rain a little on Thursday evening so we transformed a long plastic container into a little temporary shelter for Clarice out on the patio. We turned the container on its side, put a few towels in it, and a little cup of water and propped the lid against it so she/he/it would not get wet. If it wanted to get out it could easily just walk out.
The next morning she was fine. We fed her. She seemed happy and chipper and was even humming the lyrics to "All By Myself" (the Celine Dion version). It was pouring rain and blowing wind so I moved the container into my office (right by the door). She sat on a towel and was content. She would have easily died in the bad weather. There were only 2 times when she jumped out of her little home. Each time she would make a running dart for me at my desk. I would yell (as if she were a dog), "Get back there! Giiiiiiit back there!" She would tilt her head to the side, not understanding what I was saying. I would get up, walk towards the door and Clarice would follow me. Once we got to the door she looked up at me and opened her beak. I fed her and put her back in the container. She was very quiet and polite while I was working. She became my administrative assistant for the day. No pay, just benefits. We had a bond.
The rain stopped and it was getting later in the evening. Rob and I decided to put her back in the container and leave her with "nature." We put her on the towel and watched as she turned her head around to fall asleep. We checked on her again before we went to bed around 11:00pm. She still had her head turned. She was sleeping. She looked peaceful.
At 6:12 in the morning I woke and looked at the clock. I thought, cool, I have 2 more hours to sleep. I noticed Rob was up. I assumed he went to the bathroom. He came back to bed, put his head on my shoulder and said, "Clarice died." I was like, "Wha-wha-what! What do you mean???? How???" I was up for the day now. He said, "I don't know. It got really cold last night." Suddenly, I became the Indian from that old commercial where he is overlooking the highway of pollution on his horse. I looked at the camera and a big tear just rolled down my cheek. I couldn't help it. I felt a lump in my throat. I tried to control it. I pretended it was 1989 and I was watching Steel Magnolias during my straight years. Lump in the throat. Just keep your composure. Keep your composure. No tears. Stop it. Keep your composure. Think of economics. Think of church. Think of vaginas. Just don't let Sally Field make you cry like a girl. If you let a tear out, they will think you are a sentimental pussy. Then I realized it was 2005. Fuck it. I am a sentimental pussy. I'm not in the closet anymore. What am I thinking. Ball like a baby if you want. So I did. Over a pathetic wild bird I had only known for 4 days. But if you had known her you would have seen how frickin' cute and funny she/he/it was.
I refuse to believe that leaving her outside in the cold caused her death. She had all her feathers. She was a wild bird. However, had we known it was going to get so cold that night we would have left her inside. She obviously had something else wrong with her. I always thought that. That's why she became so weak. The mother probably knew this and left. I mean the bird was much more active the first 2 days. She would at least attempt to fly. Now she just wanted to eat, run after me and sit there.
She was found dead at the other end of the container. If it was too cold, I think she would have walked out of the container to try and find comfort somewhere else.
My intention was to get this bird back to health and have it fly away and come back for occasional visits with its other starling friends to say "Hey, what's up, guys." And then say to its other starling peeps, "Check out these cool gay guys that saved my life."
I realize her death is the best thing because I would not want the responsiblity for caring for it. We are going away this weekend. Who would look in on it? I mean, c'mon. Let's be real.
I received an email from some guy who said I should be happy it's dead because the birds are not native to our country and only cause problems to native birds and should all be destroyed anyway. I asked him if he was a Native American. He said no. I replied that perhaps he, too, should be killed then. No response. Whatever. This foreign bird came into MY world. I can do what I want. If you want to kill it, that's your sad business.
We buried her under the hosta where she originally took refuge from us. We put a stone and flower where she now lays.
Sometimes I think I'm just way too empathetic. I wish I could control this and just become an uncaring, mean-spirited, ignorant prick. How does one go about this? There must be a pill for this ailment. Do I start reading Ann Coulter books? Do I become a religious fundamentalist? Do I start supporting this particlular president?
Nah. I'd rather cry over a silly fuckin' bird.
Clarice's grave (by the yellow flowers). In lieu of flowers, please send durban bud some money. That will help ease the pain. Thanks.
Posted by durban bud at May 23, 2005 07:40 AM
Comments
RIP Clarice we barely knew ya.
Posted by: TOS at May 21, 2005 01:11 PM
Chicken and dog food?! Clarice you barely had a chance. If you ever get a dog, I hope you know they dont eat bird seed. :)
Posted by: Bonner at May 22, 2005 11:22 PM
Makes you wonder what was in those "chicken" burgers he made for us that one time... can you say soylent green?! (It's made with people!!!!) LOL
Posted by: TOS at May 23, 2005 10:02 AM
Do some research, Bonner. I did the right thing. Even one small piece of chicken is okay. And I would only feed bird seed to a Guatamalan infant.
Posted by: durban at May 23, 2005 11:20 AM
I too wish I could be an uncaring prick, I think it would be so much "easier" initially (since I take everything so personally and so hard) but it would not be "living." With the highs of life come the lows I have learned all to many times. The lows fucking suck and the highs are amazing - but I don't think I could be alive if life were just flat and constant. Yes it would be regular and w/o suprises or deep heartaches - but it would also be boring, tedious and uninteresting. To me - a hyper, joyful, cynic, empathetic and often high-maintenance crybaby - I'd rather deal with the downs in joyful hope of the highs, living life on the str8 and narrow sounds like my personal version of hell.
My best bud did the best he could for that poor creature. He brought some joy in a lil abandoned bird's life and got some back in return (plus the stories made me laugh so hard i cried! i haven't laughed like that in a long time) I'm glad Clarice was around, even if for a short while.
And for the record I must be part starling b/c Dbud and Mr. M have taken care of me about a million times - how they do it I don't know.
But if we had more of these guys Ann Coulter would be giving handjobs in a Colombian prison and carl rove, dumbass-in-chief and the rest of the band of merry idiots would be banished to Santorum island with a screaming case of Montezuma's revenge. (sorry i just was in the mood to insult these people - Clarice would have wanted it that way)
Posted by: TOS at May 23, 2005 11:47 AM