A week of journeys' ends

Last week was a sad one. 

I'm not sure why several journeys' ends all converged into the one week in mid-October, but they did. And the heart gets bruised, saddened. Realises afresh life and breath and sunshine is a gift and shouldn't be taken for granted, but grieves at the same time.

First, there was my baby bird. It was another round of baby mynah birds in the garden learning to fly - this time, two babies. I quickly figured out the signs - baby cheeps and parents hovering and calling urgently when we were nearby - and kept my Indi-Girl on the leash. But, one of the babies seemed to be staying on the ground too long. I put it onto low branches two or three times, but noticed its parents weren't feeding it as much as its sibling. The next morning, Indi found it - resting forever, at the bottom of the bushes where I'd perched it.

Then, a couple of days later, at work, I saw two magpies physically pouncing onto a pigeon. After much shooing, glaring and telling the magpies to leave, they did. But the pigeon didn't fly away. It looked at its reflection in the building glass and seemed baffled by the steps it was surrounded by. I went back to my office desk to get some gloves with the hope of moving it to a nearby woody area with trees, leaves and bushes where it might feel more comfortable. On the way, I touched base with a couple of colleagues on the off-chance they knew anything about pigeons. Two minutes later, when I returned, the poor pigeon had been killed by the two magpies. I've never see magpies do that before. I took the poor pigeon and put it in the woody area and covered it with leaves. Cried for it. What else do you do?

I don't think I'll ever look at magpies the same way again. Especially because, later that same week, in a playground, LittleOne got swooped by a magpie which got in a couple of pecks at the back of the head before Hubs hurtled in. (LittleOne hadn't even been aware of the magpie, so its pecks hadn't hurt much, but there was of course the shock and aftershock that followed.) Most playgrounds and parks have seasonal signs warning people if there are swooping magpies during baby season. This playground didn't.

And then, on Sunday, as we were driving to the beach, I received a message from my folks in Mauritius saying an Auntie had passed away. A lovely, brave, kind, hardworking, stoic lady, who had five children (my cousins), worked as a teacher, and who got to see her grandchildren grow to adulthood. It's a heart-loss. An ebbing of my extended family. And you breathe and send inadequate condolences by text, and you try and make peace with it, and try not to imagine the grief of those nearest and dearest.

And while I couldn't quite process this news at the beach, there was an instance there too. Two tourists had been kayaking and a turtle had swam up to them, as though asking for help. The tourists had taken it around to the where the lifeguard rescue folk were. There was a bit of a crowd which gathered, but I stayed away. I love turtles, but didn't and couldn't want to know. The long story short was that, nothing could be done, and it died soon after. The tourists took it over to the mangroves near where they'd found it, so it could return to nature. 

And now, half a week later, as I tried to decide whether or not to write up these moments into words, I checked into Instagram after a few days and saw on the page of a faraway animal shelter that I follow, a street dog who'd endured a miraculous rescue, surgery and recovery to have 6 months of joy, had passed away.

And the tears flow and stop and journeys begin and end, and we try and appreciate and respect the multitude of souls and footprints with whom we cross paths. And I suppose, to see everything good that we are and everything good around us as blessings.

Du fond du coeur x