A few days ago, after I had put out some "Sticky
Pads" trying to help a fly problems we had developed. Pearl
announced that a Wren had gotten caught in one that was laying
just outside the door. I expect it was planning to devour the
several houseflies which we had caught earlier. It was really
stuck, had exhausted itself trying to get free of the pad. I
tried to gently get it unglued and there was absolutely no
chance without breaking bones and almost certainly killing it
after inflicting much pain. I realized I had to mercifully kill
it and I callously crushed its tiny skull with a brick. Then
folded the Sticky Pad around it and
put it in the trash can.
I have been the cause of many
deaths hunting and fishing and on the farm, I don't think any of
them hurt as much as killing that wren. I'm 82 years old and I
have cried several times just thinking about it. I imagine it is
because I realize my own time on earth is now measured in years,
(perhaps months), rather than generations or scores that I now
feel the way I do.
I wish I had it to do over, I would, at
least, have have wrapped the little body in a few paper towels
and given it a little better
burial that just a trash can.