And so this afternoon, when the rain showers had stopped and the sun had come out, I went back into the garden to investigate the fallen birdbox from this morning. Immediately, I was aware of a very bad smell and it was obvious that something was not right. I gently prised the roof off the box and inside was a perfectly crafted nest. In the nest, were four or five dead chicks. Despite the smell, they were still in good condition and hadn’t completely decomposed. So I reckon they’d been alive a good few days previously.
My heart sunk. What was exciting and fun to watch turned into a tragedy and now I am feeling miserable. But that’s nature and life, I suppose. There are no happy endings. I put the bird box in a black bin liner and tied it up tight. Already the smell was attracting the flies.
Here’s a picture of the nest and the dead chicks:

I wonder if the parents had been scared off by the cats? But if the chicks had already hatched, surely they wouldn’t abandon them? Perhaps both parents had met their end while foraging for morsels for their offspring? We’ll never know, I guess. And there I was hoping that I would see a family of Blue Tits flying around the garden. Fate is merciless…

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