You are responsible for recovering every wounded animal.
If the wounded animal breathes as though it were underwater, in
terrible gulps or sharp pants, make a humming noise.
If the wounded animal makes a chirping or clicking sound, a
stammer, a thump, if its body heaves up and down like a
water pump moves inside its stomach, if its whiskers and
mouth twitch, a tick like a switch, if its big paws paddle the
air, if it bares its teeth, let it sleep.
Your presence may comfort.
Even if the wounded animal runs from you, even if it is shot in the
critical heart-lung, even if you mark in your mind the spot it
has fallen, in cover, watch over.
Crows and ravens may lead you back to the wounded animal.
Stay at a safe distance. A wounded animal will attack its own cubs.
If the wounded animal’s eyes are bloodshot, if they weep rusty water
or are frozen in a stare, if they wildly blink or stutter or seem
to stumble inside their sockets, build a fire.
If the wounded animal is bleeding from its eyes look up at the sky.
If the wounded animal’s body suddenly seizures, is stripped of
suppleness, if its chest is strapped by some unseen and
terrible belt, place a swatch of soft fabric over its rigid and
rippling body.
If the wounded animal has hidden under pine needles, broken bark
or fallen logs stand still without making a sound.
If there is no slight breath, no small sigh or struggle, no wheezing or
wobbly exhale, no hollowed out moan, no low groan or
lonely murmur, if there is nothing left of the wounded
animal, place your hand on its head.
There is no god to hear your prayer.
Kneel and press your forehead into the earth. Do you hear the wind
push through the dry grass?
At least there is that.
At least there is the sky with its burning colors.
If you fail your wounded animal, if you went looking for water or
food or shelter, if you let the wind distract you, if night
fell before you could dress its wounds or bathe its broken leg,
if you forgot the exact diameter surrounding the wounded
animal, the contours of ash field and ice-covered stream, or
crumbling mountain and wide pasture, you are still
responsible. You are still responsible for the wounded animal
even at night, even in the darkness of your tent, even in your
sleep, even in your sleep.