MOG

Whilst working in my office, a sparrow flew into my window, quite hard. I went outside, and he was lying there, badly injured, fighting to breathe. I picked him up, and he just lay there in my hand.

In the words of Joanna Newsom...

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Last week our picture window produced a half-word heavy and hollow, hit by a brown bird we stood and watched her gape like a rattlesnake and pant and labour over every intake

I said a sort of prayer for some sort of rare grace then thought I ought to take her to a higher place said: "dog nor vulture nor cat shall toy with you and though you die, bird, you will have a fine view"...

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With that song running through my head, I began to see what I had to do... My story wasn't going to have a happy ending, a la Ms Newsom, where...

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the dogs were snapping so you cuffed their collars while I climbed the tree-house then how I hollered! cause she'd lain, as still as a stone, in my palm, for a lifetime or two then, saw the treetops, cocked her head and up and flew

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I had no tree house, my dogs were asleep and not bothered... and this bird wasn't gonna fly anywhere, ever again. And so with a heavy heart, I had to break his neck and end his suffering.

I feel so horrible with myself, even though it was the kindest thing to do.

I always loved Joanna's lyrics, even though they're pitched somewhere between Narnia and reality (there really is a lot of parallels in her writing and CS Lewis), but I guess I never realised just how... real... :(