Our faux-Lab (being as real Labs are not supposed to hurt birds), Daisy, brought this Mourning Dove to the attention of my children, who all were shedding copious volumes of crocodile tears while relaying the story.
(Yes, she is alive in this picture, poor thing)
Iain has been longing to shoot something for a while, but I think his taste for killing an animal has been tamed after shooting a mole that Daisy recently wounded. He had no interest in wringing the dove's neck or using his new machete to chop its head off. (Not that I did either, mind you; I just didn't want it to suffer.) So, I called the DNR and they told me about the conservatory.
It was 3:30ish when we left for the Animal Hospital, which is roughly 20 miles away. I had to get there, drop off the bird, and get back home in time to cook dinner and take my son 20 miles the other direction to be at a ballgame at 5:30.
Let's just say I'm glad I didn't see any police officers.
When we got back from the game, we had a message from the vet at the center, telling us the poor dove was too damaged to ever make it in the wild, so they put her down. But my kids were glad we took her there.
All in a day's work for a mom, eh?
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