Magpies In The Morning

The guy in front of me just hit a bird. Maybe it was the person in front of them? I don’t know, but a bird, recently hit by a car, was presented to me at 7:17 this morning.

I peek into my rear-view window to assess the damage, and see it flopping around back there. I immediately decide it’s dead. “For sure it’s dead,” I think as I continue down the dim-lit, smoky highway. Wildfires in California have polluted our beautiful Alberta skies with a pastel pink hue, diluted smoke kissing everything the air wishes it to touch.

For sure it’s dead. A thought whose intention embarrasses me. For a moment, it felt easier to decide the fate of the bird for myself. If that magpie were dead, I could rest assured that it was no longer suffering. I could surrender all personal responsibility. I know it’s not my fault, I didn’t hit the bird. Why do I feel so guilty about this? I’ve run over deer, for Christ’s sake. Surely deer are more substantial than birds, but why? Who decided?

I just think it’s interesting…I spent the next 35 minutes of my drive trying to convince myself that it had died on impact because the whole situation made me too uncomfortable. The bird is the one who was hit by a truck; why do I think I have the right to try escape their suffering? What a disservice to the bird. should I have turned around and made sure it was put out of its misery? It’s 8:28, maybe its still out there writhing in pain waiting for sweet death to rid it of this experience. I couldn’t have stopped. There was too much traffic, I was already running late, I don’t even want to touch the bird!

I suppose the very least I could do is acknowledge it. That I might have left it there to suffer, especially when I actually avoided running it over and finishing it off because it made ME uncomfortable. I owe it to the bird, soul to soul, to at least acknowledge that it was going through something. Alone. Acknowledge the truth that is, no one cared enough to check on it-not even me. I just feel shitty that given the opportunity to put something out of its misery, I actually don’t think I’m capable. And I think it’s pretty selfish.

If it were a person, we all would have stopped. Screamed. Done everything we could to save them. Lied to them that they’re in good shape while they die in our arms. We don’t do that for birds. We don’t do that for deer. We don’t do that for humanity as a whole, the environment, or even ourselves. So, what are we doing?

Maybe it’s human condition to have more respect for things that are more useful to us. But why do we get to decide what’s useful and not? And just because we make that call, does it actually make it true? Just because something isn’t important to a human doesn’t mean it’s not actually important, right? Or maybe literally nothing is important and it’s all a construct of our perception. I don’t know. I don’t understand how we think we get to make all these rules. People really think they’re top shit, and for the most part we are, I guess. But maybe only because we think so? Other creatures don’t seem too worried about their importance... does it all just come down to survival? Do we get to decide who’s important because we’re at the top of the food chain? Because I would even challenge that with social structures. How the homeless kid with the sign at the intersection is less important than the CEO. Again, based off of a scale of productivity or usefulness. The kid isn’t contributing the way their “supposed” to, so they’re a loser or dangerous etc.

Why is a bird any less important than anything else with a pulse? Some people actually believe everything’s equally important. Apparently I don’t, otherwise I’d still be giving that thing CPR but it’s just interesting…