|This is the best my iPhone camera could do. You can just about make him out, perched on top of the ball, dead center...|
Was it love? Was the bird so attached to this glittering object that he could not bear to leave it? Could it be that, like Narcissus, he had fallen fatally in love with his own image? Or was it, at Ellie theorizes, that he mistook the illusion of the ball's reflection for the sky itself? I have no explanation for this strange, obsessive behavior, but I hope at least to have helped my feathered friend find release from what might surely otherwise have killed him.