It also got me to thinking about a writer who had a huge impact on me both as a teenager and as an adult – Oscar Wilde. His short stories were, and still are, amongst the most beautiful soul-centred ones I have ever read and they still inspire me and make me weep every time I reacquaint myself with them. My little crested pigeon reminded me of one of those stories – The Nightingale and the Rose – (warning: spoilers ahead!) a story about a nightingale that sacrifices her life to create a red rose for a young man to give to his love who in turn rejects him and the flower he bears. In a fit of pique, the young man then willfully tosses the rose into the gutter where it lies with the dead body of the nightingale getting trampled by horses and carriages and passersby.
So this is a lament for all the broken bodies of animals labeled as road kill, for the poor dumped pets out there who die carelessly and without compassion, and for the wild creatures that die inhumanely at the hands of the unsympathetic few.