I was working in bed this morning, something I often do. I’d overheard the low guttural moan of the cat. I tried to ignore it, because it usually means she’s in the living room with a mouthful of dead, or soon to be dead, animal.
This time it was a hummingbird. A juvenile hummingbird. It was still alive, but still. I held it in my hand for a few minutes and it started to chirp. Then it tried to fly. It looked like it might have had a broken wing, or worse.
What to do?
I could give it back to the cat to finish off. I could just let that process continue. I could kill it myself. To do this, I’d have to assume that the bird was going to die anyway. I didn’t know this. Or I could take it to native animal rescue. This wouldn’t guarantee its survival, but this would be the decision for the greatest good of all.
Some people may say that it’s not worth a trip to Native Animal Rescue. The bird is probably going to die anyway. Why not put it out of its misery? And what if we didn’t have a native animal rescue? What would be the choice then? Let the animal die slowly, kill it quickly, or give it back to the cat?
Wizards question everything. If we hadn’t questioned candlelight as the best choice for lighting, we wouldn’t have electric lights, and if we hadn’t questioned whether the old-fashioned light bulb was the best choice, we wouldn’t have LED lights in every hardware store now.
We question to innovate, certainly. But what about questioning everything? It can make a life take more time, but we discover things that way, even if it’s about a little hummingbird. Asking the right thing to do has created these questions for me: How do we prevent domestic cats from capturing birds? How can we more quickly treat an injured bird? Do we need a Native Animal Rescue office closer to us?
And I could ask thousands more. Being in the question is the thing that generates possibilities.
Ask away, you wizard. No question is impossible.