Note: This post isn’t particularly uplifting.

I like birds. It’s not nice to see them die, even though I recognize it as “business as usual” -type of action. Two weeks ago on a Sunday I headed to city for a cup of coffee and while parking my bike I noticed a what looked like a chick, sitting on a windowledge of a cellar window. It looked a bit dazed as chicks do and as if fallen of a nest, so I let it be and even blamed myself for not taking my camera with me. I noticed an opportunity to get my picture appear in Cuteoverload.

I proceeded to take care of my caffein needs and by chance I could see the same windowledge from my table. I could even see the small bird. I tried to spot its parents but I didn’t. When I leaving an hour or so later, I noticed the bird had died.

The next Monday I was heading to Turku early in the morning and was cycling on the campus when I heard a thud above me. I breathly pondered what an earth could make a sound like that. The question was duly answered quickly when a bird fell on the ground about two metres from me. In a way reminiscent of a number of Python sketches. I proceeded to park my bike and thought that I’d check on the bird after that. It was apparently alive.

When I came back, not many seconds later, the bird was dead and a small puddle of blood was forming under its head. How uplifting. I came to think whether it was the initial collision to a certain off-the-ground -campus facility or the following collision with the ground that killed it. Had it fallen on my lap, would it have survived?

I quickly recognized the futility of this line of questions so proceeded to think other things.