“Happy, sad, and hopeful” was the sequence of  feelings I had over the events in my garden yesterday.

Happy

I saw a flock of birds sitting on a small cold frame in my garden, and quickly got out the camera to take a picture. It was through a window I should have cleaned ages ago, but when I uploaded the photos, I didn’t worry about a bit of blur. I was just very happy to see that most of the birds were crossbills. I hadn’t seen crossbills in my yard for a couple of years, and they don’t stay long when they do visit.

Their odd crossed bills are unique, and I find the way they walk, similar to the way parrots walk, endearing. So I was happy to see these birds.

Just behind the cold frame is a Florence fennel plant that has gone to seed, and the wind has knocked many of the seeds onto the top of the cold frame. Those seeds were the attraction for the crossbills.

Two of the twelve birds I can spot in the picture are some other kind of songbird, but the rest are crossbills.

Sad

I took several pictures and then the birds were spooked and all flew up. It seems there were many more in other parts of the garden, and as the flock took off I heard that sickening thump of a bird hitting a window.

I was shocked to see a female crossbill hanging onto the garden fence, presumably after hitting a window. I felt heartsick.

What to do? Go pick her up and keep her warm? It was a chilly morning. But maybe that would freak her out more and she was already traumatized.

Leave her alone? I just wanted to help. But would I do more harm than good?
I felt like a shallow reporter, taking pictures of a tragic situation.

It looked like she had taken quite a hit to the head. A drop of blood clung to the feathers behind her eye. At least the blood wasn’t pouring out. It seemed to have stopped.

The crossbill held on without moving for at least ten minutes. I thought she might be dead. But then she moved her head a little bit. Another five minutes went by and I worried about the chill in the air.

Hopeful

Suddenly she flew up to the top of the fence and sat there for about five seconds. Then she took off into the air, and flew into the safety of the thick branches of the nearby fir trees.

I hope she’ll make it. My worry is that her flock is not to be seen, but I hope she can call them back or somehow find them.