The cats brought in a baby bird last night about midnight. It looked dead, so I wrapped it and put in in the trash. Come 3 AM, it started squealing. We thought it was another bird, and went looking for it several times. Finally it dawned on us it was the first bird, which was still in the wastebasket.
The little guy got slightly chomped, but should survive. We’ll find a rescue place for it.
So, we were up several times unexpectedly last night, are a bit sleepy. It occurs to me, what if this was in Iraq, and rather than a mangled bird, the house next door had been splattered by machine gun fire or it was an uncle lying on the floor who had been shot.
Because that’s what Iraqis deal with on a daily basis now, in a war without purpose, with the invaders apparently having gone insane, and no end in sight.