Lockdown diary #3: You are never parted in the beating of your heart…

As is so often the case, the body was in virtually flawless condition: the only clue as to its demise the dull eye (ordinarily… extra-ordinarily brilliant yet pale with cheeky inquisitiveness and intelligence) hanging loosely from its socket – seemingly beseeching me for help that could never come. Even two days later – when no-one, no-thing, had been to claim it: neither fox nor magpie; buzzard nor kite – it remained impeccably embalmed in its lignite sheen: and so I carefully gathered it from the verge – the weight in my hand remarkable for its lightness (as if the departure of its life-spark or soul had rendered it hollow) – and laid it carefully in its temporary resting place. Normally, we would have buried it in a quiet spot in the garden. But times are not normal: so I swaddled it, instead – muttering a few thoughts of ritual respect and regret… – in a large workaday carrier bag; and then placed it, heartbreakingly, in our green council compost bin.

Jackdaws form strong pair bonds with their mates and are renowned for their devotion towards their partner. Even if they suffer from a few years of unsuccessful breeding, they still stay together, potentially due to the fact that they have invested so much time and energy into trying to raise young together.
– Megan Shersby: 7 amazing jackdaw facts

I had already worried myself silly about its mourning mate, its wingtips inches from nowhere in pained, unaccustomed flight: noticing an odd gathering of three returning regularly to the chimney of the cottage opposite; one frequently stalking the centre of the tarmac, in that almost loaded, landed, lordling way (upright; hands behind back; seemingly proud of its podgy paunch; satin cloak shuffling in time with those black matchstick legs…) obviously in search of something….

It is generally in perfect good faith that the jackdaw struts about in the peacock’s feathers.
– Emile Gaboriau: Detective Lecoq – Complete Murder Mysteries

But I am almost certain that I anthropomorphize too readily. (But then the correlation with my 91-year-old dad being taken to hospital once more – forgetful of anything but the remote past and the immediate present – leaving my deaf 89-year-old mum behind, is so sharply clearcut as to bleed my heart – and eyes – seemingly forever dry.)

The appointed day came, the birds assembled before Jupiter’s throne; and, after passing them in review, he was about to make the Jackdaw king, when all the rest set upon the king-elect, stripped him of his borrowed plumes, and exposed him for the Jackdaw that he was.
– Aesop: The Vain Jackdaw

But death surrounds us – all too presently. Too many people we know dying relatively alone – of too many diseases: COVID-19; dementia; old age… – disparate from their loving families (therefore adding ‘loneliness’ to that list). Those who care for them – ushering them into the perpetual jet darkness where ‘my’ jackdaw now flies invisibly… – caring beyond expectation, duty, risk… and, above all, love.

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
– The Bible (New International Version): 1 Corinthians 13:13