Did I do rightly this time?

In the hedge, puffed up and not fleeing. A coal tit. I stood and thought. I remembered little Squirrel Nutkin and the One-Eyed Squirrel. I remembered the blackbird Blossom. Do nothing, I thought, don't make the bird's last hours worse.

The wind was blowing and once the tit lost his grip and was swung off the branch, scrabbling back uncertainly to cling on again.

Don't think you are the saviour, you'll only make things worse, I thought.

And so I left.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-ejgYPzTys

It rained heavily.

The next day, no body, no bird.

Had he recovered and flown? Been eaten? Died and fallen out of my sight in the ivy?

I don't know.

The desire to act and the futility of it. The desire to be a saviour. Maybe I could have helped? Maybe I have to keep trying?

I don't know.

Maybe I have to accept that I don't know.