The living and dying of the creatures of the world takes me aback.
Last Saturday this flock of chickadees (I think?) stopped by to feast and fly.
On Thursday morning this lovely, curious, insistent, even bright, kitten, died. (The picture was taken a week ago, on the same Saturday that the flock of chickadees came by. We had a home for her. She was about two weeks from being weaned at the time.) We believe that, in looking for smallish places to explore she found her way underneath or behind the chest freezer out in the garage, sitting on an uneven concrete pad. The tippiness of the freezer, and her older brother's penchant for jumping onto the freezer, which causes it to rock, likely conspired to crush her in some way. We found her Thursday morning, near the end, crying in pain. All we could do was to try to make her feel comfort and care before she stopped breathing.
This morning, after a fresh snowfall, the chickadees came back, still intent on finding food.
So it goes.
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