I saw that its leg was twitching, and thought it might have
dazed itself flying into the window glass. It isn’t uncommon at this time of
the year when courtship is preoccupying them and they’re chasing each other around.
As far as I could tell, it appeared otherwise uninjured.
Fearing that it would chill, I dashed out and picked it up
to cradle it in my hand to keep it warm. It usually works and the bird recovers
quite quickly. Its eyes were open at that point, its leg was still twitching, it
felt warm, and I detected a slight struggle as I held it. It didn’t last long.
After about ten minutes its eyes closed and it was dead.
The death of a bird is a matter of great consequence to me
because I venerate all life and have a particular fondness for birds. And yet
it also produces an odd paradox – how supremely important every individual life is, and yet also how
inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It’s one that I haven’t resolved yet.
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