I picked one up and admired it, then saw more of them and couldn't help but collect them, and then grew uneasy. One feather on the ground, all is well, but this many feathers in one place always signifies a fight to the death. I hoped otherwise, but sure enough there was one bloodied feather as evidence. Nature has taught me not to feel sorrow over dead anything, but I became solemn realizing I was at the spot where a beautiful creature parted from the earth, to serve some greater purpose, I hope, or at least I want to believe.
2 comments:
It looks like the work of a cat or a raccoon to me. We have found little piles of feathers like this around our house, since the arrival of our feral cat, Hermann.
I've found vignettes like these around my forest a few times over the years.
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