Oh, little one, I am so sorry.
I knew the hunters were airborne when I refilled the feeder, but I didn't know the local hawk was using me as its personal duck blind.
Suddenly the cold didn't matter. I sat on the compacted white mound I'd so meticulously crafted earlier, cupped your still-warm body in my bare hands. I cried, my tears melting tiny holes in the snow bank.
So brave. Even with the damage, you tried calling to your mate, to warn her of the danger. She is safe for now, huddling in the brush with the rest of the flock. I see your hunter hunched in the maple, waiting for me to set you down so he can claim his rightful prize.
I will stay with you till the end.
You can't fool me. I know you no longer feel your body any more, not even the racing of your tiny heart against my fingers.
I keep saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, over and over. Not my fault, I know, though my bird seed attracted you and your kind, and my window glass dealt the lethal blow.
Your hunter is getting restless. He wants me to stop interfering, set you down and go about my stupid human business. I can hear talons shifting, a rattling fluff of feathers. Puffs of snow drop from a nearby pine and land on rabbit tracks with a soft shushhh.
Your head droops, your eyes glaze. Our breath mingles, freezes. Goodbye, fierce one.
About the Creator
Meredith Harmon
Mix equal parts anthropologist, biologist, geologist, and artisan, stir and heat in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, sprinkle with a heaping pile of odd life experiences. Half-baked.
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The Devil Gets What He Wanted
“Hello Old Scratch. My name is Glabon. I assume you know why I am here?” “Of course, Glabon, as you no doubt know, I know many things, most in fact.” “Well, despite that I am required by my superiors to inform you of my intentions in any case.” “And, you always do what you are told don’t you my friend Glabon?” “Of course, and I am not your friend, nor are you anyone’s friend, but that matters not for purposes of this discussion.” “No need to hurl insults, it was only a figure of speech. I would suggest you lighten up, but I assume your superiors would find that objectionable, and my guess is you are not capable of it. Do you ever even smile Glabon? Or laugh? No, I presume not.” “Mr. Scratch I am not here for banter or games, I am here for your interview. As you know a select group has been commissioned to write your biography for the historical record.”
By Everyday Junglist6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
arrrrggghh - we have a Coopers Hawk that comes by our feeders trying for lunch or dinner. If we see her, we chase her away because there are RedWinged Blackbirds aplenty she can have. Once she caught a flicker which screamed and, alerted to this, I saw her standing on it - clapped my hands, flicker flew off and so followed but don't think she caught it. Nature is hard.
This is really lovely.
Oh man. I've been here with little creatures although not with a predator waiting. I was really moved by this, Meredith. Really moved. I like it when the sparrow hawks dive and knock themselves out on the glass as I feel like they're being punished and thwarted hopefully, but I'm always glad when they recover too. They are, after all, just looking after themselves but the little sparrow? So sad.
My response tends to be the same, even as I know that the hawk must eat, too.
Little Sparrow. Love this story