Pi in the Shire.

There’s a wide window sill about two feet long outside a corner of my office. It’s one of the places where I put bird food, and it’s one of their favourite places to feed. This morning there was a small pool of fresh blood at the right hand end, and a splatter pattern stretching over to the left.

It’s an odd place for the site of a kill. The only creatures I’ve ever seen on there have been small birds, since there’s a sheer wall beneath it and nothing to climb up. And it’s an unlikely, though not impossible, place for a hawk strike, being a tight, restricted space. There was no body, no sign of blood anywhere else, and no feathers, as there almost invariably is with bird kills.

I dislike the sight of blood. It didn’t bother me when I was a teenager and a young man. I played sport, including rugby, and so I saw plenty of it. The older I get, however, the more enervating I find it. Cleaning it up wasn’t pleasant.