The unnatural course of events

When I decided to go ahead and drag the trash can to the curb, I had no idea I would enmesh myself in an unusual ethical dilemma involving cause and effect and my impact on the natural order of things.

But there in the grass, next to my driveway near the spot where I put the trash can and recycle bin each week, sat a gray, wren-like bird - obviously injured, as it didn't fly away even as I passed within a foot of it.  So I had Teri bring me out a piece of bread to see if it was interested in eating some crumbs, while I tried to figure out if there was any way I was going to be able to help it.

Meanwhile, across the street, two teenagers strolled down the sidewalk - one twirling a long stick of some sort - trailed by a black-and-white cat walking in the neighbors' yards.  The cat stopped to stare at one neighbor's house in response to the ruckus their dog started raising at its presence.  About that time, the bird must've decided I'd gotten too close for it's comfort, as it attempted to fly away, getting about halfway out into the vacant traffic lane before apparently remembering it couldn't really take wing at present.

The cat, of course, immediately recognized dinner, and made a beeline for the bird.

Well, normally I'd have no problem with a stray cat having its way with an injured bird - all part of the natural course of events - but in this case I felt somewhat responsible for having raised the cat's attention when the bird had just been sitting there inconspicuously until my curiosity disturbed it.  I couldn't just watch the cat pounce on the poor, injured thing.  So I ran out into the empty street and raised a ruckus, and the cat ran past the bird and me, through my yard, and hid out under my car, obviously waiting for the big creature to go away so it could get to its meal.  I was having none of that.

But as I chased the cat from under my car into the next-door neighbor's yard, I noticed that the thing looked fairly young, perhaps an older kitten.  And it soon approached and rubbed against my leg on the way by, so it seemed to be a friendly one, to boot.  Meanwhile, my wife, fearful of cats for quite some time now, stood guard over the injured bird, which we'd manage to chase back onto the grass before decatting my car.  And upon my daughter's arrival home, she made the observation that this young-looking cat was also pregnant-looking.

Well, our attempt to catch the bird wasn't working out too well, and here I was with an injured bird and a hungry, friendly momma-cat on my hands, along with a far greater sense of responsibility for things than a less-neurotic person probably would have felt.  Perplexed and grasping for a solution, I started walking up the street in the hope that the friendly cat would follow, fully expecting that if she did she'd likely follow me back home, too, but hoping maybe she wouldn't.  In that case, maybe we could then figure out what to do about the injured bird.  Somehow I got lucky on both scores with the cat, who finally sat down in a yard about a block away and decided in the manner that only cats understand not to trail me home.  Then I found a third bit of luck, in a way, with the bird: when I returned from up the street I couldn't find it anymore.

So nature will probably still take its course: some critter will probably eat the bird, and a young momma cat will probably find a meal, but at least I won't feel like that injured bird became supper primarily because of my intervention!