Do it. I'm all 👀
Discussion
Well... the story (a true story) took place about 15 years ago. I was hauling cross country for a decently sized retail outfit and found myself in Crescent City, CA ... way up on the north coast.
I was unloading the back of the trailer and had it mostly cleared out when I discovered the strangest bird I've ever seen, huddled against a wooden beam on the floor...
I found out sometime later that this bird was known as a chuck-will's widow, but at the time I had no idea what I was looking at.
The damn thing looked sad as hell, and as it wasnt moving much, I took it upon myself to find a box and a towel and pull it inside my rig to warm up...
I had come all the way out from the great state of Texas, where I had loaded the trailer, and I figured the bird was a stow away as I hadn't opened the trailer doors since then.
Anyway. I found a phone booth (they had those back then) and a directory and searched for a rehab place in town.
All I could find was something called the North Coast Marine Mammal Center...
Well the lady on the phone told me they weren't equipped to handle birds, but she said had a number to a local bird expert.
Unfortunately, I didn't feel like I had the time or patience to call anyone else, so I hung up and drove the damn bird to the listed address for the mammal place...
When I got there, I was scolded by this beautiful girl who reluctantly took the box from me.
She may not have been equipped to deal with birds, but she was a lot more equipped than I was, you know?
Anyway. I handed over the box and the strangest thing happened...
The lady, having calmed down decided she should take a look at her new patient.
She set the box on a counter, opened its top, stared into the eyes of this thing and passed out on the floor in front of me!
...
Strangest thing I ever saw. I was in shock. I mean, wtf was I supposed to do.
I looked around for the phone to call 911 (that's the emergency service number in the U.S.), and then I saw it: a note scrawled in pencil on a clipboard in front of the phone reading 'bird lady' along with a local phone number...
I can't rely tell you why, but that's the number I called.
I told her what had happened. She was shocked, but said she'd be there right away.
I attended as best I could to the lady who had passed out. Mostly I just gently slapped at her face till she woke up.
She seemed OK, just startled and maybe a bit confused...
About 20 minutes later, the bird lady arrives. The lady who was running the rehab center was doing much better now.
I was ready to leave. I thanked them for taking the bird and they thanked me for bringing it.
But when I tried to leave, I was told that the only way this bird would survive was if they could arrange a ride south to Humboldt County, about an hour and a half away...
The bird was in shock and unable to deal with the cold and damp environment of the north coast.
She told me she could keep the bird alive for a few days, but she ran her bird rescue operation out of an old airstream in a trailer park and couldn't properly heat it to the standard this critter needed.
In Humboldt, there was a better care facility, but they were going to stop taking birds the following morning. They were at capacity I guess and had issued a warning to all the rehab stations in the area.
The bird would have tk
too get there tonight, and neither of these ladies could make the drive, what with their own patients in need...
I really wouldn't normally do this, but for whatever reason, I agreed.
I was irritated, but I took the address, and the box, and went back to my rig.
I had to drop the empty trailer in their parking lot and bobtail my tractor through the windiest stretch of forested roadway I'd ever been on...
Anyway. I made it. I dropped the fucking bird to another rehab lady in Humboldt and was ready to say good riddance to the whole situation.
But before I left, I took another peek at my feathered friend to say goodbye...
The thing was much more awake and active in the box, and it looked at me like it knew me or something.
It was so strange, but all of a sudden I felt sort of attached to this thing, like we had bonded or something.
It felt odd leaving. So I asked for a way to keep in touch with the rehab chick. She gave me her number and said I could call anytime...
Well. To tell you the truth, I sort of forgot all about it for about a week. I made my way back up north, picked up my trailer a d headed into Oregon to some little town to pick up another load and head back east...
But, after some time, I found the number in my wallet and decided to call.
What I heard was the worst fucking story I ever heard.
I warn you, it's shocking and upsetting how this story ends... so I want to make sure you're still with me here.
So, let me know if I should continue, or if you've had enough.