Today’s wildlife rehabilitation loss is among my worst. Earlier, I brought a young blue jay, recently fledged, to the veterinary clinic to be humanely euthanized. He had been grabbed by a dog after he landed in the dog’s pen and wasn’t yet flying well enough to quickly escape. The tiny bones at the end of his wing, like your fingers, shattered at the joint, leaving him unable to spread his wing feathers. The federally licensed bird rehabilitator I’m apprenticing under confirmed what I feared when I saw the injury. It was irreparable damage. He would never fly. The only right thing was to end his suffering.
This one broke my heart because the dog lives in the house next door. The youngster was part of the family of blue jays who has been raising young in the woods behind my home for more than a decade. At first there was only one. He noisily greeted me every morning while I filled the bird feeder. That winter he disappeared, presumably migrating a short distance south. He returned the following spring with a mate. The family grew and now there are ten or more who visit the feeders in the morning.
For the past few summers, the blue jay parents have brought their fledglings to the feeders. I love watching the young ones follow their parents around and, wings flapping and mouth gaping, beg to be fed. The adults ignore them and eventually the kids eat on their own. I feel blessed that the blue jays feel safe enough at our feeders to bring their young offspring to them. The little one I closed into a box and drove to the vet might have been at my feeder earlier.
I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other over the box, offering my passenger Reiki for the transition. I intended his passing to be easeful and for his spirit to soar with perfect wings. Sometimes I’m able to be with my patient during the quick euthanasia process and can continue to give Reiki, but the veterinarian office’s schedule couldn’t accommodate that today. I sent a little more energy from the parking lot before I headed home.
Afterwards, I took an offering out to the Earth, tossed some peanuts out for the jays and squirrels, and told the blue jays and all the nature spirits what had happened to their baby. I couldn’t blame the dog; he’s only eighteen months old, still a youngster himself, and he reacted instinctively when the bird landed near him, but I did tell the blue jays to stay away from the dog’s fenced yard. And I cried, because I needed to grieve with my blue jay friends.
This is ecological Reiki. It’s not just Reiki for the ecosystem. Ecological Reiki is the whole web of experiences of tending and being tended, and tools to compassionately respond to suffering, to process grief, and to work with your wild community to navigate the challenges posed by systems of domination and exploitation and, occasionally, unfortunate encounters between species.