bone, feather, and wing
just as Death and the sun, a life-giving thing
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Hello. This post is about Death & Birds.
A few weeks back I went down to one of the big, outdoor aviaries in the lower lands to feed the Crows. A couple of them cawed enthusiastically as I approached. Upon entering, one of them flew directly at me, landing chaotically on my shoulder, flapping his wings and loudly yelling into my ear. I quickly realised that this was the new Crow, named Russel, who had come to the rescue centre after being raised by humans and who did not yet recognise himself as fully Crow. I did my best to go about my duties as Russel wiped his face and beak over my neck and hair, and the others looked on disapprovingly.