For the past several weeks a pair of painted buntings along with a pair of indigo buntings have been coming to our bird feeders every day. They are visiting us from up north.
Yesterday the female painted bunting was sitting at the feeder. Out of nowhere a hawk flew into our yard. It startled the little bird and she, in her moment of desperation, flew right into the glass pane of our kitchen window. I went outside to see if she was okay. She wasn’t. She was laying there in the grass with a broken neck.
I picked up her little still warm body and cupped her in my hands. I brought her into the house with tears running down my face. I placed her in a little cardboard box and Mr. Pop buried her later in the day.
It was just a little bird, I know. But I wish she could know that a human being, something she feared her entire life, had cared enough about her to cry due to her loss of life. She’ll never know how many hours I stood at my sink washing dishes and enjoyed watching her through my window as she nibbled on the seeds we placed in the feeder for her. One little bird will be missed.