Silence is golden on plane rides and before morning coffee. Not, as now, after trying to save the little maniac, the bucket bird. This afternoon I left him after his latest splat, down from his pot perch in the plum tree. I went out, grab the pot and went after his feathery ass, and he hopped chirping towards my massive holly bush. I should have put him in the branches of the holly from the first. Thing is though, everything likes to hide there, which includes all neighborhood bird seeking cats. But I decided to give him some time or something. I dunno. He wasn't taking to my forceful relocations well. One hour later I came back and heard... nothing.
Well. Almost nothing. There were the quiet questioning chirps of a parent nearby, and I watched as one grabbed a worm and headed to the holly bush. No gap mouthed maniac was there for enthusiastic reception. Nope. Only silence. I don't see evidence of kill. Just silence. And parents who are slowly giving up.
The violent storm on Monday I think knocked him down. I picked him up several times, putting him in a tree. And stood there once, watching a parent stuff that little maniac with worms 4 times as he flopped along belligerently on the ground. I might have bought him 24 more hours. He needed 48. Little birds are such dependent free spirits. I thought of the Calvin quote, when he told Hobbes "I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul." Hobbes, "Ah, but of course" (of course.) Calvin then goes on to explain "My mandate also includes weird bugs."