Yesterday as we were taking Malcolm on his afternoon walk, we witnessed a group of crows pecking two little birds to death. Luckily our presence scared them away, but the birds were already in terrible shape. The smallest pigeon -- or dove -- (I don't think there's that much of a difference, but then again, I'm no bird expert) stumbled into the street and began to waddle in front of a stopped car due to a broken wing. Suddenly a Scottish man scooped up the bird, broke its neck, and discarded it into a bush. In front of passersby. I felt sick to my stomach and wanted to cry.
For those of you who don't already know, I'm obsessed with animals and feel the need to keep them safe. I love any type of animal, really. When I was younger we had a rabbit, a turtle, hamsters, gerbils, cats, and a dog. I would bring them home (not all of the animals we owned, but some) and try to hide them in my bedroom but of course, my parents would always find them.
To make a long story short, I told B that we had to bring the other bird home. It's wing was clearly broken as well and as it hid behind a street sign, it looked like it was going to hyperventilate (so sad). B suggested Malcolm's old travel kennel that he outgrew a while ago so I picked it up with my sweater and tucked it inside.
I googled searched for advice (of course) and found that the UK has quite a few pigeon/dove shelters. The man at the shelter suggested calling the Scottish SPCA since it was injured and then they would most likely turn it over to him. Birdy is now in their possession and hopefully he'll heal soon... I'm glad his neck wasn't snapped too.
The kennel Malcolm so graciously handed over.