A thrush came to visit today and stayed unfortunately. It hit one of our windows with an unmistakable thud. Sometimes the birds survive that do this. I had hopes for this thrush at 7:00 am this morning.
When I went to investigate it lay there on its back next to my rocking chair and looked at me. I gently turned it onto its breast and left for an early appointment, praying that it would have recovered and flown off by my return. No, it was still there when I came home, but no longer living, so I carefully picked it up and placed it in the woods for another in the food chain to eat. The dead ones always disappear. I never see what has taken them.
It was sad to see the thrush because I recently learned from a friend of my youngest daughter's that the song we hear at dusk is that of the thrush. I never see it in my walk through the woods, but I noted its demise in my bird book and was reminded that the last death in 2007 was also a thrush. Elusive in life except for their song, prominent in death on our deck.
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