Sunday’s Charmony Dove copypasta
One day, after dinner, while my younger sister and I were lounging about in Mr. Gopher Wood's yard, we spotted a fledgling Charmony Dove all on its own. That baby bird was tiny, it didn't even have all of its feathers, and it couldn't sing. When we found it, it was already on its last breath, having fallen into a shrub — probably abandoned by its parents. We decided to build a nest for it right there and then. However, thinking back, that winter was unusually cold, with fierce winds at night in the yard, not to mention the many poisonous bugs and wild beasts in the vicinity... It was clear that if we left the fledgling in the yard, it stood no chance of surviving until spring. So, I suggested we take it inside, place it on the shelf by the window, and asked the adults to fashion a cage for it. We decided that when it regained its strength enough to spread its wings, we would release it back into the wild. The tragic part — something that we'd never considered — was that this bird's fate had already been determined long before this moment... Its destiny was determined by our momentary whim. Now, I pass the power of choice to you all. Faced with this situation, what choice would you make? Stick to the original plan, and build a nest with soft net where the Charmony Dove fell? Or build a cage for it, and feed it, giving it the utmost care from within the warmth of a home? I eagerly await your answer
Arataki “Sunday” Itto / Jesse Pinkman edition
So, one evening after dinner, me and my little sis were just chillin’ in Mr. Gopher Wood’s yard when we spotted this baby Charmony Dove, like, totally alone. This lil’ dude was tiny—no feathers, couldn’t even chirp, nada. It was barely hangin’ on, lying in some bush, probs ditched by its fam.
Obviously, we decided to make a DYI nest right then and there. But like, looking back, that winter was brutal. The wind was out here tryna ruin everyone's vibe, and the yard was full of sketchy bugs and wild animals, so...yeah, bad news for the little guy. It hit me that if we left it outside, it was totally doomed. So I was like, "Yo, let’s bring it inside, put it on the windowsill, and ask the grown-ups to whip up a little cage for it."
Plan was, once it got its act together and could fly, we’d set it free. But here’s the plot twist we didn’t see coming: this poor bird’s fate? Already sealed. Our lil’ rescue mission? Just a side quest that didn’t really change anything.
And now, I’m passing the controller to you guys. Faced with the same sitch, what’s your move? Can’t wait to hear what you’d do.
Ranni edition
One evening, after supper, whilst my younger sister and I did repose in the yard of Master Gopher Wood, we espied a fledgling Charmony Dove, solitary and forlorn. The poor creature was but a babe, scarce clothed in feathers, and naught a note of song could it muster. When we happened upon it, it lay upon the verge of death, having tumbled into a shrub, perchance forsaken by its kin.
Moved by pity, we resolved to fashion a nest for it on the instant. Yet, upon reflection, that winter was uncommonly harsh, with bitter winds tearing through the yard by night, to say nothing of the venomous insects and savage beasts that prowled nearby. 'Twas plain that, if we left the hapless bird without, it wouldst not survive the winter, let alone endure 'til spring's awakening.
Thus did I propose we bear the bird within, to set it upon the sill by the window, and entreat the elders to craft a cage for its safety. We determined that, once it had regained its strength and could spread its wings, we should release it back into the wild from whence it came.
But alas, in our youthful ignorance, we reckoned not with the cruel truth — that the bird's doom had been sealed long ere we found it. Its fate, shaped by our fleeting fancy, was not its own to command.
Now, I place the burden of choice before thee. In such a plight, what course wouldst thou pursue? I await thy decision with bated breath.
Perchance & ‘Twas edition
Hark! Upon a day, post repast, whilst my younger sister and I didst recline in the yard of Master Gopher Wood, we espied a fledgling Charmony Dove, solitary and forlorn. That infant bird, diminutive in stature, bore not yet the full plumage of its kind, nor could it warble a tune. When we didst discover it, it was nigh unto its final breath, having tumbled into a shrub—perchance forsaken by its progenitors. Forthwith, we resolved to fashion a nest for it anon. Yet, in retrospection, that winter was uncommonly frigid, with tempestuous gales by night in the yard, and myriad venomous insects and feral beasts in the environs... 'Twas evident that, should we leave the fledgling in the yard, it wouldst have no hope of enduring until the vernal season. Thus, I proposed we convey it within, place it upon the shelf by the casement, and beseech the elders to contrive a cage for it. We decreed that, upon its regaining of vigor sufficient to unfurl its wings, we would release it back into the wild. The lamentable truth—something we had ne'er pondered—was that this bird's fate had been preordained long ere this moment... Its destiny was sealed by our fleeting caprice. Now, I bequeath unto thee the power of choice. Confronted with this quandary, what course wouldst thou pursue? Adhere to the initial design, and construct a nest of soft net where the Charmony Dove didst fall? Or fashion a cage for it, and nourish it, bestowing upon it the utmost care within the warmth of a domicile? I await thy response with bated breath.
