Yesterday, 3 living chicks plus one blue egg.
Today, 3 living chicks plus one dead body – already starting to smell enough that the flies were gathering. I’m not sure if it was the runt but it may have been. It had got pushed to the bottom of the pile, smothered and starved to death, probably overnight or this morning. To save the rest of the clutch, I had to take it out when the adults weren’t around, and buried it.
It’s always like this, a relentless counting process. Counting up, then counting down. Nature moves on. You get your turn at life, and then it’s quickly gone and it’s someone else’s turn.
For two seasons now, we’ve watched the masked weavers build nests above the aviary about 2 weeks before the rain comes, and within days there is nothing left, no trace of that merry wing-fluttering attempt at family life. It’s sad, really, but that’s the way it goes. I do wonder if these potent storms of late have started to reduce bird numbers though. Global warming clearly takes its toll not just via the heat itself, but also with the storms.
