Closure

 So, I need to write down about the last two hours with Nugget.  I need to make sense of this in my own head, or at least sense I can live with. 

He was anxious, squawking, wings low and spread and quivering, crest down, the way he is when he suddenly realizes I'm not around.  "Oh, little thing," I would call.  The squawks would change to his "Cooee?" He usually takes off to hang out on the mirror, but this time he stayed on my shoulder, quiet.

This part is crucial. I forgot he was there. He weighs next to nothing, but he often lets me know by messing with my hair or clothes that he's there.

He didn't this time.

I'm straightening up the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, talking to myself, putting the coffee grounds and compostables together.  Putting things away.  I forgot he was on my shoulder. I think he's on the mirror, like he always is when he is hanging out. 

Except, I go to the compost barrel outside, and I am halfway between the house and the barrel, when he squawks and flies off.

A hundred thoughts fly through my head. But I can't ignore the one that tells me that this might be the last time I see him. I drop the bag in the driveway and run. He alights 40 feet up in the tree across the street. I scream his name. The neighbors come out. I point.  My elderly neighbor runs in and gets me a coat.  I stand underneath the tree calling to him. He calls back.  The wind blows, he struggles to stay on the branch. I keep hoping he'll let go and float down but I know he won't. 

He flies off into the backyards.  I run inside, change my shoes, put on a heavy jacket and race out again, this time with my elder son in tow.  We are walking through backyards, calling him. We hear him but can't see him. Then I look up, way up, about 40 feet up, and there he is. 

I tell elder to get the cage. The neighbors in that house come out and keep us company. I yell until I'm hoarse. Elder cries "I feel so helpless!"  I second that emotion. I stare up in wonder as I realize that little sucker is PREENING. As he often does in my lap when he is feeling safe. High, high up I see the shadow of an accipiter. Too big for a sharpshinned, likely a harrier. He looks, and flies on. I let out my breath and realize that this is likely his end. 

Robins fly in and roost around him. I wonder what kind of interaction there will be.  They fly off in short order. A little later a blue jay comes in to check him out. I half hope he swoops in and knocks Nugget out of the tree.

Oddly enough, he flies off,too.

It's just Nugget up there now. I see him catnap briefly a couple times over the course of those two hours.

I begin to think maybe he will work his way down. He has sidled down the tree a few feet.  He knows how to climb. But does he want to?

And squawking all the way, he takes off in a straight shot over the house. I run. Thinking that he'd maybe alight in one of the trees closer to our house.

But he keeps going. Carried by the wind and his own volition. 

And he's gone. 

And I don't hear him anymore.