A Tale of a Pigeon and a Duck

I used to mark the value of a moment by the extraordinary. Working on an ambulance will do that to you. When matters of life and death permeate the hours of a day the simple things can feel so trivial.

This week I noticed an injured pigeon in the road. Without hesitation, I stopped traffic and carefully moved her to the side to recover. My heart broke for the little being, so dazed and confused from her battle amidst the cars on the busy road. As I sat with her, a woman approached who I recognized; a ‘frequent flyer’ from my days on the ambulance. Recognition passed between us. And then I noticed she carried a duck. 

“Is that a duck?” I asked.

“What of it?” She retorted.

With a grin and a shrug we both turned to our feathered charge. She explained some of the needs of birds, which clearly she had more experience in than I. I fretted about water, about a safe space, about whether a rescue would accept the pigeon. I felt her gaze on my face and when our eyes met she said, “I’m surprised you’re so upset.” And in her eyes I saw the version of me she knew well. I flashed memories of the many battered human beings I had carried off the road without the upset I was experiencing over this pigeon. My face grew warm. Was I being ridiculous? “Then again, with you I’m not so surprised” she added with a toothless grin. And I remembered the pet rat she had before the goose. How I had left her in the park to run back to the ambulance to pull the crackers and cheese snack my husband had packed for me out of my lunchbox and crumbled it in her hand for it. How long ago was that? Years? I nodded, and wondered if she knew how much it meant to me that she remembered that kindness.

Her eyes widened in shock and then understanding as I pulled a box out of my car and carefully loaded the pigeon. She nodded again and again, “you’re so kind for doing this”. She said, echoing the words she had offered me time and time again when I had found her curled by the grate downtown or under the trees by the river and brought her warm blankets and bottles of water. My spine straightened and I felt more than heard myself repeat my mantra of that time, “this is what I do”. 

I took the pigeon to a park a few blocks away from the busy road. She had perked up and I left her standing in some shade. As I drove home I cried and cried over suffering, over pain, over fairness and the lack thereof. 

My first year on an ambulance, a gruff mentor told me that if one being matters they all matter. He meant that regardless of ailment, all humans require respect. I’m not sure he meant animals, but in my heart, I know that to be true. 

It’s been a tough week for my students, which means it’s been a tough week for me. It’s summertime, and traumas abound, which means we’ve worked through many calls with patients who could not be saved. It’s a challenge to maintain your humanity, your compassion, against such odds. How much easier it is to shut down, dissociate, remove feeling from the equation. 

But if one being matters they all matter. Holding onto compassion for each other amidst the pain and confusion and chaos of the world around us is what makes it worth it. It’s what makes us worth it. It’s the key to maintaining self compassion, the most challenging of it all. 

If we want to show up for our family with tenderness, we must also show up with tenderness to the patient. Or maybe, in this case, with tenderness for the pigeon. 

More and more I see the extraordinary value of these simple moments, and how maybe, they aren’t so simple after all.

My 1:1s are designed to hold heavy space for those who struggle with the asking,

so I’ve removed the asking from the equation.

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