The good all of us can do matters

Two years ago, I found the skeleton of a bird who’d died tangled in fishing line. It was caught up in a tree in my hometown, at a spot in the park where fishermen launched into the lake; someone’s line must have snarled in the branches, out of easy reach, and been left there in exasperationexasperation. I didn’t walk through that park for days afterwards. I couldn’t imagine a worse way for anything to die.

Last spring, I was walking my cat (that’s another story) when I found a robin, very much alive, dangling by one leg in yet more fishing line in a pine tree by my yard.

This time I could do something. I practically threw my poor cat back in the house and ran over with scissors, a towel and a shoebox. Cutting the bird down was easy, but his struggles had tightened the line until it cut him to the bone, and a veterinarian had to remove the last of it with tiny scissors. She x-rayed his leg and confirmed it wasn’t broken, but reported he wasn’t moving it and the damage was likely severe.

Since he was a wild animal, they could do nothing more and directed me to the only wildlife hospital in the area, at the University of Illinois. The robin, named Frederico by one of the vet techs, went back in the shoebox. I started driving.

There are two morals to this story, which I had plenty of time to contemplate on the two-hour round trip to the U of I. First, clean up your fishing line. Second, the good we can do matters.

The whole drive I debated myself. I’d had to cancel brunch with a friend for this. There was no guarantee the wildlife clinic could save Frederico’s leg, or his life. Just releasing him would be deadly, though, and I couldn’t live with that ... but this was just a bird. I was doing so much for something so small, and many people would say he wasn’t worth it.

It felt like a lot of effort for something that didn’t ultimately matter.

Here’s the thing, though — saving this bird mattered to me and mattered very much to Frederico. It would also have mattered if I left him. Compassion doesn’t need to be grand, and actually, is that ever what the read kind is? Or is most concentrated when it’s inconvenient, uncertain and all we get in return is songs on the car radio?

Due to COVID-19 restrictions, I couldn’t follow Frederico into the clinic. On the drive home I finally decided to trust myself — it was okay that I did something others might not understand. I had done right by myself. I had done right by another life.

I like to imagine Frederico was successfully rehabilitated and released or, if not, became a one-legged ambassador animal for wildlife presentations.

It’s okay that I don’t know because whatever the outcome, what I could do mattered. It keeps mattering. So does what you do.

Samantha Tucker is a staff writer at the Daily American Republic. She can be reached at stucker.dar@gmail.com.