A Teary Titmouse Tale

Around 12:45 p.m., I was sitting at my computer working when I heard something go wham into the house.

Or so I thought.

I looked out the window and I could see feathers wafting away in the wind. I thought a bird had hit the window. I jumped up and headed out the door to see if I could save it.

Outside, I found a pile of feathers, including a long gray-black tail feather. No bird.

While I am really pleased with my birdfeeder, I'm afraid I have set up a nice space for hawks to find lunch. Large red-tail hawks come through here about this time every year.

Perhaps the hawk clipped the house as he raced away with his prize. Or maybe the noise was simply the loud kill, the whoosh of loss of life echoing through air.

At any rate, I was sure a hawk had found a meal.

As I turned to go back into the house, a tufted titmouse landed on the birdfeeder. I saw the long tail feather, so similar to the one on the ground, and thought, Ah, it was a tufted titmouse that was no longer alive.

Then I listened to a sad song coming from the bird on the feeder. I shot a few photos and went back inside.

The bird sang its mournful tune for a long time. I cringed every time I looked out and saw the bird still sitting there. Finally, it flew away.

I looked it up, and apparently tufted titmouse are birds that mate for life. I am assuming it was the mate who sat on my bird feeder singing forlornly.

This makes me profoundly sad.