A baby bird passed away today. Merry was trying to nurse it to health, feeding it baby food with a syringe. It didn’t seem to have its eyes opened, and never unfurled its wings. We buried it respectfully in the landscaping of the pond I was working on. I will always remember its body is there, but will always picture it free from the constraints of the physical world, finally in flight, weightless, among the astral lights.
I don’t know how something so small, something I barely knew or touched, could make me feel so sad. It just does.
Wonderful afternote: A day or tow later, our neighbor Brenda found a bird mauled by one of their outdoor cats. I brought it in, leg outstretched and unable to fly, and after Merry saw it, she planned to have it put down at work the next day. In the morning, it’s leg was back in position and it could fly a bit (it was a fledgling fresh out of the nest). She set it free by a creek nearby, giving it a reasonable chance of survival. It was a moment of healing to know that.