The Water & Wing of a Bird
Two moments from a kite rescue that left an impression on me
In the final days of Ramzan, I had to rescue an injured kite that had a severely broken wing. Multiple events happened during the course of the rescue, but two moments got a visceral, bodily reaction out of me.
The first moment happened the night when I decided to pick the kite off the road and bring her into our home so she wouldn’t get hit by a vehicle. The rescue team was expected to visit us the following day. I left the kite in the outer area of our house, near the plants, and gave her some water in a clay pot.
Soon after, I found her fully sitting in the water pot and then lowering her neck to drink water. Her beak was grey, sharp, and steel-like; her body slightly relaxed. Each of her feathers was beautiful, and together they made a beautiful lace-like pattern. She was magnificent.
I stood quietly and watched her. My heart felt completely and wholesomely full, my brain empty. My breathing slowed down, and my body relaxed. The bird and I didn’t understand each other, but we understood each other in some deep, instinctual way. The kite was fulfilling a primal life need, and I could feel that in my body. Watching her was enough. Nothing else was being wanted or needed. All my troubles of rescuing her felt truly and completely worth them.
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The second moment came when the animal shelter staff, at my request, sent me the video of the kite’s medical examination. They had picked up the bird just a couple hours earlier.
In the first video, two men, the veterinarian staff members, were handling the bird. They had worn thick gloves, and their hands moved slow and methodically.
In the second video, one of the men suddenly held the kite’s ruffled-up, broken wing up in the air. It was no longer attached to the bird. The men had completely severed it from her. The other man held the kite in his hands so that the bird’s belly showed, and she could see the men. To me, the kite seemed confused, unsure, lacking her species’ characteristic, powerful stare that can cause fear in others. I, too, was confused and sad. I still am.
I was disturbed to see the video. And in my body, I could feel the moment when the wing must’ve been pulled off the bird. Instinctively, I wanted to protect my arms. I tried to distract my mind, but the physical act of the wing being forcefully ripped off the kite kept resurrecting in my body, leaving an unpleasant sensation in my flesh.
I was upset with the vet’s hurry to rip off the wing. I was not satisfied with the fight and time put into helping the kite. What was the point of this rescue and all my efforts?
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Five days later, the kite died. “Too many complications,” the shelter told me. I thanked them, made a small donation to cover for their team’s efforts, and that was that. That is the state of our nascent animal rescue services, far weaker than what is primal and living within us.
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