Farewell to Summer

Don't worry, I am not completely confused about the seasons. Although, I do love fall so much I would be happy with about two weeks of real summer weather -- but that is another blog for another day.

Today, I am writing about our latest wildlife adventure. Mia Joy, our five year old, tells us regularly that she is a veterinarian (to which we try to remind her that she is five and wants to be a vet when she grows up). She runs a small animal clinic in the basement for the more than 120+ stuffed animals that she owns (one of which she took to church with her on Sunday and when they asked if anyone had brought a visitor Mia raised her hand. She almost had the whole primary singing "The Welcome Song" to her dog, until someone noticed up front that her visitor was a stuffed animal!), and, as evidenced by the preceding antecdote, she takes them along EVERYWHERE we go.

I must admit, Mia has always had a way with animals. She is the only three year old that I have ever known for whom all the cats we would meet on walks in our old neighborhood would let her pick them up and carry them around! Being such an animal lover, she is constantly looking for opportunities to rescue and befriend the real wildlife in our neighborhood.

So, it would just figure that on Thursday a mourning dove would choose my front steps on which to collapse. Mia opened the door in the morning and came running in to tell me she had found an injured bird. (I did not immediately respond, figuring she had seen it at a distance and did not really know what she was talking about -- which is always a mistake with Mia, who always seems to know what she is talking about, much to her mother's chagrin.) In any case, when I did go to inspect, I found a large bird lying awkwardly on my front steps. Mia and Maggie had pulled up chairs from which to observe and keep watch over the bird.

At first, I thought it may be dead. It was missing a good chunk of feathers by its neck and had clearly been attacked. Then, we saw it try to lift its head, shudder a bit and gasp for air. Now, Mia was adamant, "We must save this bird! It came to us for help! It knew that I am an animal rescuer!" I got online and tracked down a real wildlife rescuer in the area and read up on how to pick up an injured bird, place it in a lined box with a safe place to fly away if it should get better, and how to very quickly get skilled help because birds expire quickly when hurt. As I prepared to make a call to find out what to do next, Mia, Maggie and I literally watched the bird, which now Mia had named "Summer," since it was the color of dirt that grows things and arrived at the beginning of summer, take its final breath. It was dead.

Mia and Maggie would not believe that their new "pet" was dead. I placed it in the box and put it on the back deck. I told Mia if she saw it move again I would call the wildlife representative and tried to reassure her that this was probably best for the bird.

Mia went through all the stages of grief. She was in denial. She cried and mourned. She became angry and looked for people to blame -- she thought for awhile perhaps a human had tried to hunt the bird and that we should call 911 and have them come post signs that hunting was not allowed in our neighborhood. She also yelled in the general direction of the neighbor's cat, just in case he had inflicted this harm upon her bird friend. She then accepted the truth and developed a plan about burying the bird and having a funeral service that evening when Jeffrey returned home. And, finally, she moved on, coming up with elaborate plans to lure more birds towards our property and befriend them.

On Friday evening, Jeffrey dug a hole under a tree in the front yard, where he told Mia he had heard the bird cooing, and we buried the bird. Mia told us the things she liked about the bird, how it just sung beautiful music and made everyone happy, and Jeffrey read a scripture with a bird reference in it. This appeased Mia's need for closure, and she has only put flowers on Summer's grave once since. She has decided that perhaps we should open an animal cemetery in our yard to provide proper burial for any wildlife that may be injured nearby.

And so, I say farewell to Summer.

I just await the next creature to come into our lives.