Bea the blackbird came closer to me when I whistled to her today. Then she hopped to the ground to collect the mealworms that the squirrel had rejected and chucked out of the bird feeder. The wrens seem to have sorted themselves out.
I ran in the fields. Saw nothing of note. Yesterday I saw Meg who told me her dog Indie had just killed a hare and buried it. She was upset, not as upset as I would have been. It seems Indie regularly kills things. She eats baby rabbits and hares but buries the big ones. 'It's her instinct,' said Meg. I remember Jabi killing a rabbit - it was sick, had myxomatosis. Better to be dead than that. A cruel, cruel disease.
I come across animals sometimes that are kept alive by loving owners despite what seems horrendous pain and suffering. I started to wonder if people who were naturally happy, full of joie de vivre, valued living so much that they projected that onto the animals. But then I know people who aren't seemingly so spirited but have the same inclination. I guess I project my 'oh God, but life is so goddam LONG' onto the animals and think they're better off out of it. Be nice to know how the animals felt about it. Poor, patient, stoical things.
Meg, incidentally, is very beautiful and rather... fey? No... she is so natural... free, maybe... She is alternative - she and her partner have a camper van - and three children.... The children build dens in the woods. They are Swallows and Amazons. Meg could be an islander in the Hebrides or settle in the Wild West... or be a nomad traveler. I find her rather enchanting. Indie, less so.
I like the blackbird's name. Are its feathers looking more normal? I agree with what you say: "Be nice to know how the animals felt about it. Poor, patient, stoical things." Your hanging basket is full of life!