The Finality

   I took both the birds out to the shed where we kept the apparati.  I put the carriers on a table, speaking in low tones to the injured creatures.  Then I picked up a plastic box with a lid and a brass fitting attached with heavy glue to the side.  I opened the box, then went back to the table and opened one of the carriers.  The iridescent black duck inside was laying on one wing, injured foot in the air.  I put the lovely creature in the plastic box while I stroked his head.  Closing the box, I took the tube running from the tank and plugged it into the fitting on the box.  No, that's wrong, I connected the tube before putting the bird in, no point in adding any more fear than needed.  The duck was looking at me while I did this.  I opened the valve on the tank, then opened the tube gate.  I made myself watch every second of what I was doing to the duck.  He thrashed about some, and stopped moving after about 20 seconds or so.  At 30 seconds I shut off the tank and disconnected the tube from the box.  I took the box outside and opened it being careful not to breathe any traces of the gas.  I took the limp duck and put him in the freezer we use to store dead birds before we cremate them.  I then collected the box, opened it, took up the other carrier and put in the Ruby Throated Hummingbird that had been brought in that morning with a broken wing.  I reconnected the gas and turned it on, the little thing was dead in ten seconds.  Again, I made myself watch the entire procedure.  The tiny bird was about an inch and a half long at most, and his feathers shone metallic red and green in the sun.  I put him in the freezer as well.  Death comes swiftly for injured animals, although sometimes not swiftly enough. 

           Ho! the young recruits are shakin’, an’ they’ll want their beer to-day,

           After hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’!