Now well into my sixth decade of life a portion of thought cycles almost each day focuses on when and how my demise will come. How won't matter much to me if death comes in an instant or at least quicker than I'm able to sense the event. Likely scenarios include taking a crippling or fatal fall or heart attack (my favorite) while out hiking. I'm not prone to seek death with any high degree of effort. This male phoebe chased after death–a crow that came too close to its newly built nest. The crow brought it down with a single peck as the phoebe was chasing it away. I helped its mate deal with the loss of her mate by feeding her moths until her eggs hatched and she was able to leave them to hunt for food on her own again.
She may have never known why her mate failed to return but we became friends for a while as she produced two full broods from which all chicks survived and flew away from the nest.
