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I had to do one of the most awful things I’ve ever done this morning. I drowned a bird. A small black and white cat had been pulling its feathers out as I was making coffee, looking particularly proud of its catch. The bird was laying still on the grass, looking particularly dead. The cat ran off when it saw me. The bird stayed where it was.

Ten minutes later, though, it moved. Just slightly, but enough to be alive. I went to look at it, and saw a deep gash between its wings, half of its feathers had gone and its throat had been cut. It was bleeding heavily, and you could see right into its back. Flies were buzzing around the blood, and ants were already swarming in the deep cuts. Its feet and legs were tucked away beneath its body, and its neck stretched out so that I could see its face without it having to move its head.

There was no way I could leave it like that to die slowly in the hot sun, and I couldn’t hit it with a shovel, so I filled a bucket with water, pulled on rubber gloves and picked it up. It shifted slightly in my hands - or it could have been me moving it without quite realising. I felt immensely priviledged to be holding this tiny living thing in my hands, and even though it was in such a terrible state it didn’t make putting it under the water - and holding it there for the minute or so it took to die - any easier.

At first it was still, then it moved in my hands for a few seconds. Still again, then another twitch. Every time I thought it was finally dead it did another tiny move. After what felt like half an hour I took my hands out of the bucket and it bobbed to the surface, its claws sticking awkwardly out of the water like sharp little matchsticks.

It was a horrible way to start the day, and although I would have told anyone else who had done it that it was without question far kinder than letting it die slowly, nibbled away by the insects, the fact that I felt it die in my hands made me feel like a terrible murderer.

Of course, that delayed things somewhat. I’d agreed with mum to arrive at hers by half twelve so Andrew could open his birthday presents before we had lunch, but as it was almost one already we ate first, sitting on the patio in a garden full of birds, all chattering sweetly and doing a good job of making me feel guilty.

The weather was fantastic - far better than yesterday. We got hot sitting there in the shade of the umbrella and so had a break between the main course and desert for Andrew to open his presents. I was a wonderfully relaxing afternoon. When we’d finished eating, present-opening and munching birthday cake I spent until seven on a sun lounger, reading proofs and sipping tea.

Jess, clearly enjoying the company, spent her time trotting up and down the path between the two patios and the meadow, checking in every hour or so for some biscuits and a tickle before setting out on a new mission in the field. I just hope that if she was hunting birds she put them out of their misery, unlike that poor thing this monring.

I got quite ahead of myself, which is a good thing. I’m editing the mag on my own for the next two weeks, and shortly after that I’m off to Iceland, then Lithuania.

I’ve been reading the Lithuania Lonely Planet, which has got me very excited. 80% of the country’s electricity is produced but just one nuclear power station - of exactly the same design as Chernobyl - in a town called Ignalina. It was supposed to have four reactors, but there were massive local protests at the plan when it was found that Chernobyl didn’t explode simply because of an accident - it was actually quite a dangerous design anyway. So, instead of four there are only two reactors.

The European Union, and in particular Sweden, which realises that it is in the direct firing line if it goes up, is understandably worried about it, and has spent hundreds of millions of dollars helping the Lithuanians improve it. Clever people who know about such things say that the reactor channels will burn out in 2010, and the Lithuanians had promised to shut it down at this point rather than replace it. EU funding, though, as helped convince the government to close at least one of the reactors in 2005.

Now, here’s the scary bit… the scientists who work with the reactor live in Visaginas, 2km away. Even this distance from the plant, though, there is a big geiger counter in the centre of town measuring reactivity in the air rather than a clock.

It sounds like a very interesting place to visit, but is it safe?

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 23rd, 2002 at 8:51 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.