Every year we have Blue Tits nesting in the façade of our house. They squeeze between the stones and carve out little nest caves inside the thick walls.
Usually they successfully rear their young, and all fly off quite happily.
This year one small fledgling didn't make it, the poor thing flew into a window and his life came to a sudden end.
We gave him a decent burial and said how sorry we were, but there's really not much we can do about such tragedies.
RIP small nameless bird.
p.s. I'm afraid that Lady Magnon has just found a second dead baby Blue Tit. This time we suspect Freddie The Cat.