Today's question is: "What is the worth of the life of a duck?" This is the question that I have been asking myself for several hours now.
This morning, just after 11:00 a.m., I am driving home from work at BYU. As I travel along North Campus Drive I come to that stretch of road across from the art museum where they have that pretty grassy-rocky-watery-ducky area where everyone takes engagement photos. Suddenly, I see three ducks in attack formation flying directly toward my windshield. I start to slow down and one of the ducks drops to the ground right in front of my car. That was the first time I asked myself the question.
I decide that the duck is worth braking for, so I stop. I expect the duck to take off immediately, but no such luck. Just as I am about to tap the horn to scare it away I notice something approaching rapidly in my rear view mirror and—CRASH! That was the second time I asked myself the question.
After a few seconds of shock, I turn off my engine and get out of the car to see if the people who hit me are alright. I notice the handicapped sign hanging from their rear-view mirror and the elderly woman sitting in the passenger seat. That was the third time I asked myself the question.
The woman in the driver's seat tells me that they are fine. My car appears to have fared better than hers. My bumper is shot and my muffler has been knocked loose, but her front end is smashed and antifreeze is leaking onto the street. The campus police are soon on the scene and they keep us busy. After nearly and hour of calls to insurance companies, paperwork, giving statements, and drawing the gazes of passing rubberneckers I ride away in the tow truck. By then I lose count of how many times I had asked myself the question.
There was no doubt from the police or the insurance companies that the other driver was at fault so I won't have to pay for the repairs to my car or for the snazzy compact car we rented. The only real cost to me was the hassle, the waste of my time, and the ache in my neck.
So . . . was it worth it? Should I have stopped? According to the law and the insurance companies, my stopping for the ducks did not cause the accident. The other driver should have been able to stop. But . . . there would have been no accident if I hadn't stopped.
If I find myself in the same situation again I really don't know what I would do. If it is clear to me that my stopping or swerving would in any way risk some sort of accident I would hit the duck. I've hit two dogs (on two separate occasions) in such situations.
However, if I have no one on my tail (like today) I would hate to hit the creature. It makes me think of Ray Bradbury's book Fahrenheit 451 where drivers race through the streets at break-neck speeds just for thrills. The road is the territory of the drivers and their entitlement leads them to plow down pedestrians, often deliberately.
I hate to think that ducks deserve to die just because I decided to drive by where they live.
So what do you think? What is the worth of the life of a duck?
3 shekels...or were you looking for an more in-depth response? I'll tell you this. The BLM has been informed by wildlife biologists, that when necessary, firefighters are to expend extra effort (including extra days on a fire, extra physical work) to protect the habitat of the sage grouse by saving even small patches of sagebrush completely encircled by fire thus making the life of a sage grouse worth tens of thousands of dollars. Who even sees these animals? Well, you saw the duck, and somehow that mattered.
ReplyDeletei would have done the same thing. i immediately thought of what joseph smith said in regards to killing animals, “when men lose their vicious dispositions and cease to destroy the animal race, the lion and the lamb can dwell together”. doesn't sound like you had a vicious disopsition. now if you would have had to swerve into pedestrians to avoid hitting the duck then that would be a different matter...
ReplyDelete1/4th a cooler of energy bars.
ReplyDeleteDaniel, that sounds about right. I mean if a human is worth half a cooler of energy bars, then a duck would probably go for about 1/8-1/4 of a cooler of energy bars. I'll check to make sure the next time I'm at Arby's in Provo (or "the res" as we like to call it).
ReplyDelete(Click here if you don't know what we are talking about)
I just changed a time setting. Let's see if it worked. If so, this should say about 3:03 p.m.
ReplyDeletemath should not be required of blog visitors, thank you very much.
ReplyDeleteThat's wierd. Now it is treating these later comments (with the time change) as if they happened earlier. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteWell, nobody died. And after all, what's a little inconvenience if it saves a duck?
ReplyDeleteSo here's just a bit more to think about . . .
ReplyDeleteI just got the estimate for the damages to our car at $2000+. I'm quite confident that it will cost more to repair the other car. This duck is approaching sage grouse values!
I also know that I would be willing to put down a chunk of change to buy a duck for eating. I would also be willing to go hunting for ducks to eat. Both of those options would be much less expensive than saving this duck. Am I a hypocrite?
It's a shame that it's going to cost so much money and time and pain and paperwork. But after seeing a guy on Oprah late last night, who has pancreatic cancer (i.e., he *will* die), I can't help but think that none of that is important.
ReplyDeleteI feel worst for the poor woman who must feel terribly embarrassed, and whose insurance is probably going to shoot up. I also feel bad for the cop and for Brady, both of whom certainly had better things to be doing.
In the end, it comes down to what the dying guy said: people are more important than things. Cars are things. Ducks are people.
Jon
So do people really comment on your blog at 3:52 a.m. and 5:08 a.m.? That seems a little crazy. Good for you for saving the duck. Hope you and your auto feel better soon.
ReplyDeleteWordpress's clock is set for Greenwich Mean time. I think that you just subtract 6 hours to get the time for Mountain.
ReplyDelete