Small Tragedies


I heard a thump from the deck. Walked over, and, startled, the black and white Free Range cat that the neighbors let out looks up at me. In its mouth, wings spread, is an ex-pine warbler. From the splash marks on the deck, I would guess that it pounced on a bird that was bathing and either water-logged or not paying attention.

“Oh, no, no, no…” is not the most dramatic of battlecries, but I charged anyway, sending the cat and its dinner running. Not two seconds later, perhaps proving their lack of sense, another pine warbler is on the suet feeder, less than five feet from the scene of the crime.

The area around the feeder has little dense cover from which a predator can spring, and there’s plenty of trees and roof and a few small potted shrubs for a little bird to dive into, so there’s really nothing I can do to improve the situation, but now I feel like an accessory to ornithicide.

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