Warning: Those with weak stomachs may not want to read the rest of this post.

This morning, as I was walking to class, I came across a baby bird on the ground. It must have been attacked by a cat or something, as its head was partially removed, hanging onto its neck by a thread— yet it was still alive. There were hundreds of ants crawling all over it, and it was in a lot of pain, kept twitching and looking around pitifully. I couldn’t bear to see such a small, helpless creature be in so much pain. So I covered it with leaves, found a large rock…

…And I killed it. I feel so horrible. Sick to my stomach. Dirty. Even though I know that what I did was merciful, preventing it from dying a slow, painful death… I feel so sick. I keep smelling blood and death, and I keep wanting to wash my hands. Even though I covered it with leaves so I wouldn’t have to see it die, there was so much blood… I can’t get it out of my mind. I cried for at least 30 minutes afterwards. I just can’t stop thinking about it…

It seems so cruel that the only way to be merciful to this poor creature was to kill it. I wish there had been a way to save it, keep it from having to go through that pain at all. It doesn’t seem right.

I’m sorry for such a gruesome post, but this was really traumatic for me. It bothers me that I ended a life, even a life that was in so much pain. Why does the concept of mercy have to include such a horrible act? Why did I have to be the one to come across this? Why do I have to feel so bad about this…?