self-pity

yesterday i had the opportunity to help save a red-tailed hawk. it had a broken wing so we (rolf, kerry, and i) called fish and wildlife to come in and take it to a wildlife conservation place near madden, alberta. i must say that it was a little freaky initially as rolf and i were catching it. it didn't lash out or fight - it just stood in very defensive posture as i cawed like a chicken (there may have been some flapping of arms) to keep it's attention as rolf picked it up by it's body.

the hawk couldn't fly and was severely dehydrated (says the bird conservation officer). he just stayed poofy and sat with his beak open at us. it was truely remarkable. i mean - i've seen hawks before but up close they're so much more amazing. The details like the whole in its tongue and a split roof of their mouth are just facinating.

i would also like to note that it looks like the griffin off of Harry Potter. i wonder what we would have looked like to him.

i wonder how long he could have continued fighting and even what capacity of 'fight' he possesses. the instinct for survival is often talked about but really - the instinct to fight with everything in us is often weak. is there strength in remaining defensive like our hawk-friend...a still, aggressive posture in the face of what i'm sure seemed like 'the end' for him. he didn't flinch and there was no give-in on his part...just no actual 'fight'. hmm.

i was also amazing to me how calm he was. i wonder how long he had been like this - how long he had been fighting to stay alive and how long he could have kept it up. it reminded me of a poem titled 'Self-Pity' by D.H. Lawrence. i will end with it because i feel like words would cheapen it...

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

[ D.H. Lawrence ]