This morning, while getting ready to walk the dogs, my mother and I found a bird sitting outside the gate.

It was the same one who invaded the house yesterday.

It was sitting, still as stone, and only moved when I approached. It looked like it had a rough night and couldn't move very much.

I got a box, wrapped in loosely in an old shirt and tried to call the vet. Of all things, the vets weren't picking up, and late on, their lines were engaged. Good going 24 hour veterinary service...

I saw that its wing was a little bloody and it wasn't eating or drinking. After a while, its breathing picked up in pace and it looked weaker. I think my mum and I both knew it was dying.

I was holding it in my hand with a cloth around it when it started to stretch and struggle in a fit of sorts. And then it stopped.

It took me a little while, what with its body still warm and its eyes open, to confirm that it had died. When I turned it over, I saw some wounds around its neck.

Poor thing must have had quite the frightening night by itself.

We buried it next to our only fruiting lime tree.

Hopefully, it found some comfort at the end at least.