I've never had a living thing die in my arms...until today.The baby dove I have loved for the last 12 days, closed his eyes, fell asleep, and then died in my hand this morning at 10:15.
Little Junior was shivering a lot the last two days, and I was noticing that his parents weren't sitting on him at night and were feeding him less. His mother seemed frustrated yesterday, too. She was making sounds that she hasn't made since shortly after I adopted her, and--by the tone of them--they sound like they come from sadness.
The last 3 days have been colder because of the rain, and so I tried pointing a space heater at him. I even turned on my apartment heat for awhile.
But when I looked at him this morning, the tips of his toes looked purple and he looked exceedingly weak. I couldn't get the parents to feed him, so I went for my emergency kit of baby food formula for chicks. I'm so glad I had it in reserve.
I mixed up the formula on the stove, and then let it cool down. For an hour, I held and hand-fed him, and he seemed to enjoy it. This was the first time I had ever held him, and I had been trying to avoid doing so because I did not want to give him any germs or prevent Mom and Dad from doing their job.
But I held him today because I figured he needed to feel love and the warmth of my hand. His emotions seemed to perk up as he enjoyed my petting and drank the formula. But, after an hour of this bonding, he then got sleepy, closed his precious little eyes, and then breathed his last gentle breath, right there in my hand.
My emotions were blank for a while, and I stared at his fragile little body, wondering how he was present with me a moment ago but not here now. And then I started crying.Pure and Innocent had been watching me all morning, and when they heard my cries, I sensed they knew what happened. I brought the little baby over to them to say their good-byes, and they looked so confused and helpless, looking at their lifeless child.
Later, when I let them out of their cages, they seemed to want to mourn their loss in private, and they huddled together in a corner of my apartment where I could not reach them, the mother cooing (which she rarely does) but this time in a strained way, tucking her head underneath the father who seemed to be comforting her by rubbing his head upon hers, although mostly he just cuddled her and listened.
I feel horrible, and I feel responsible. I should have bought an electric incubator to keep him warm. But instead, I thought only of my selfishness and convenience. I figured I would let Pure and Innocent do what they could, and that was all. And by my planned carelessness, I realize now that our baby was always teetering just above a death sentence.
I will buy an incubation machine as soon as I can, no matter how much it costs. And I will bury him tomorrow, under the grass beside Cotton. And I will learn from this lesson so that his little life paves the way for more to come.I am sorry, Little Junior, desperately sorry. You will never be forgotten and will always be missed. Thank you for brightening my life while you were here. You brought us joy!
