baby bird

it grabbed my eye as we were walking on the path towards the beach

this tiny little feathered thing

gasping for breath

wing torn off

covered in ants

we stood there sadly for a moment

I picked it up

it was gasping silently

no noise at all

tiny beak opening and shutting

little tongue stretching out

little lungs inflating (equally)

brushing away ants I looked at dutchboy

vet?

where?

it’s 5pm on saturday afternoon

god

but its breathing so hard

silently

that tree is really high

shit

we hurried back to our car

the tattooed boys outside the skate shop tell us there is a 24hr vet nearby

not nearby enough as I’d like

we both know its probably not a happy ending

but its breathing really strongly

and you can’t leave a tiny feathered thing alone

 

tiny silently gasping feathered things die on the side of a footpaths

all the time

but yesterday this one died en route to the emergency vet

about five minutes before we got there

its grey fuzzy head resting on my palm

we kept driving

partially because we didn’t know what to do with a tiny dead bird

partially because I knew the vet would have antiseptic wash

 

I scrubbed

(twice)  thinking;

something only seems ‘disgusting’ or ‘unsanitary’ after its no longer necessary

if its perceived to be necessary you just do it

(DREs, disimpaction, pressure wound care)

and try not to think about it later

there is a scenario often tossed around

in CPR talk

would you do mouth to mouth without a mouth cover?

the consensus is no

you don’t need to

its not necessary

just do compressions

But I think I would

not because of some morally upright stance

but accidently

because of naive adrenalin fuelled instinct that fails to take into account vomit

blood

infectious diseases

or

ant covered dying birds

 

There must be 50 ways to leave your lover…

copyright Peter Walker

When one changes from deep discussions about whether or not to go serif or sans serif on a particular font for a campaign, to learning different ways the human body can malfunction, it can be a bit of an adjustment.

I was trained in communication theory + practice; to persuasively argue any point (whether it was correct or not), + to sell any product (whether I believed in it or not) to a profiled, segmented target market. Lord, I wrote an essay on a SKYY vodka print commercial that received a high distinction whilst actually including the sentence “The values connoted by way in which the lime is sliced are different than if curled lime rind had been used (connoting femininity) or a thin slice had been placed on the rim of the glass (connoting relaxation).”  

I was in a delightfully, indulgent world where people gave a damn about semiotics, shades of colour + originality.

This new world of physiology only gives a damn about facts. 

Facts shown in flowcharts. Flowcharts that break the disease process down to show how hypoxia of a certain area leads to anoxia which leads to cell death which leads to tissue death which can cause enough damage to lead to…well, death-death. 

So, I find myself humming this song, getting my head around the fact that there are more ways to expire than I have ever imagined possible.