While out walking the dog today, we happened upon a small lump in the road that didn't quite look like a rock or clump of dirt. As we approached, it became clear that it was a little bird, barely 3 inches from beak to tip of tail.
It was dead. The little body was still slightly warm.
To keep the dog from defiling the body, I picked it up. It was mostly the colour of dust, light grayish brown, slightly darker on its back and wings, created to blend into its natural surroundings (shrubs and trees) perfectly. But it had not counted on a sudden encounter with a car windshield.
It had been an insect-eater: the beak was narrow and pointed. Its crest (top of its head) was yellow with brilliant orange feathers underneath. A little male! The tiny legs with still-clutched feet seemed like pencil leads. I marveled at the intricate design, milliseconds before my eyes stung and tears spilled over. 
This is the closest image I could find. Image
provided by "The Other Kev" at Pixabay
"The poor little thing!" I exclaimed. "What a shame!"
Hubby asked if he could see. I laid the tiny body gently in his hand ad stroked the little head where I found the orange underfeathers that would only show through the yellow if it was agitated.
"Its neck is broken," he said. "Death was instant."
"...but still...!..."
He gazed at it a few more seconds, and carefully and respectfully slipped the little body into his coat pocket. "I'll bury it at home," he murmured, more to himself than to me.
As we walked along in silence, a little Sunday School song came to my mind: "God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets His tender view. If God so loves the little things, I know He loves me too." And it's like I heard in my quiet core the still, small Voice of that God say to me, "I saw him fall, too."
And I cried.
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