I hate that I'm chewed up about it.
I think it's for a few reasons. It was so absolutely striking. It's talons were real and in tact. It's feathers were plush and beautifully colored, as drab as they were. It's beak and it's huge, stern eyes when it was healthy enough to look around... just broke my heart. This is something with the fury and strength inside of it to legitimately terrorize me if it were just the two of us in an open field. But it was so weak, so destroyed, it laid motionless on my own driveway and didn't so much as twitch when I laid it in a field and walked away. If that bird had any ounce of strength left, it would have fought me.
Maybe this isn't such a small deal, in some ways. It was a wild beast, laying helpless before me. I know people that hike the wilderness diligently who don't run across situations like that. And it was so, so beautiful.
I imagine it building a nest. I imagine it swooping in and striking. I imagine it eating very naturally and healthy. I imagine it fighting off other males for territory. I imagine it sitting on a lightpost and surveying this neighborhood as if it were its unperturbed habitat, which of course it is very perturbed. I imagine it becoming the master predator that it is.
**** death, man.