I heard a flapping on the ground as I walked along Llanbadarn Road. It was a blackbird and it was clearly injured, with one of its legs bent and lifeless. I kept my distance from it not wanted to distress it further. Poor lamb, I heard myself saying, while its yellow eye stared at me. What could I do? How could I help it? The RSPCA would help, he said at breakfast. What a blackbird? Yes, he said, they’d come out for anything. I hope that is the case and if it is still there when we walk out later we can call them. If a cat doesn’t get it before then, I said. That’s Nature, he said.
The town was a cacophony of seagull squawks as I walked. Near the station a baby gull was calling and two adult birds were bending their heads up and down in front of it and shrieking. Where they it’s parents or where they telling it to be off? I could hear the young screeching across the whole area, either from their nests or from their hiding places on the ground. It is such a lonely, aching sound. They are betwixt and between babyhood and maturity and all at sea.
Life makes one’s heart bleed.
