In Sarah Orne Jewett's short story, "A White Heron," young Sylvia had to make a morally challenging decision, typical of so many tales where the main character has to grapple with some ideological, seemingly ethical, dilemma, while at the same time being so poor she doesn’t know where or when her next meal will be. On a practical level, she can’t really afford to take principled stands, but if Sylvia had made the practical choice, there would be no story to tell and bore us high school kids with these nonsensical moralistic themes that it is better for oneself to suffer than to cause harm to another creature, usually--and in this case is--an animal.
The starving child Sylvia was fortunate in landing a job with a young, immensely likable ornithologist on the hunt for a white heron. But the heron’s beauty meant so much to Sylvia. She struggled whether or not to reveal the location of the white heron to her young boss.
Her final decision was to spare the heron's life, remain silent about its location, letting the man leave without the bird that he desperately wished to find. Although I understand why Sylvia made this choice, I personally would have not have done the same thing if I were in her situation.
If I was in Sylvia's situation, a girl with no food at home, living in a shanty house, I would have told the man about the white heron’s location. Pride is a virtue, but the poor rarely have the luxury of such virtues. Pride doesn’t feed an empty stomach.
I love birds and nature immensely; however, I don't believe that what the young man was doing was necessarily anti-nature, as it was implied in the story. He is an ornithologist: someone who preserves and stuffs the birds they kill to study them and teach others about them. I have been to several museums, such as the Vanderbilt Museum and Museum of Natural History in New York, where exhibits showed stuffed and preserved animals, many of which were birds.
While some people find this cruel, I personally learned a lot from viewing each specimen, and overall it was a very educational experience. In fact, it made me respect the animals even more by admiring the exquisite beauty and learning about the uniqueness of each one. I would have gladly helped the young man out, as his reason for hunting birds was not reckless and without purpose. Though the heron would have died, its body would have been preserved so others could admire its beauty and learn about it. Perhaps I’m jaded from living on Long Island, where waterfowl are plentiful: ducks, geese, swans, herons, egrets, and those rat-birds, seagulls of all kinds. I am in awe of wild creatures, but I do not elevate them above human.
The money Sylvia could have earned was desperately needed by her and her family. Her grandmother was poor and lived on a small farm in the wilderness. The man had offered $10, which is equivalent to about $200 in the present-day. It could have provided many things for Sylvia and Mrs. Tilley. Food, clothes, medicine, shoes…
Unlike Sylvia, I would have chosen to divulge the white heron's location to the ornithologist. The heron's death, while on an individual level would be very tragic; on a much greater level it would have benefited others. I would have earned desperately needed money, and the bird's remains would have been preserved so that the man could study and inform other people about it.
I understand the author’s theme of self-sacrifice. That a human being like Sylvia is capable of such empathy and sympathy, she wouldn’t harm an innocent creature, even if it meant her own starvation appears noble, on the surface at least.
I suppose there’s a reason why English teachers assign these stories to malleable-minded high school students. While on one level this short story is indeed haunting and sad, it mostly annoyed me. Life is cruel. But if we don’t care enough about ourselves to fight to survive, to me that says something even more tragic about humans than what the author intended.