While I was working in my study, I heard a slight tap at my window and went to see what it was. My house is a chalet bungalow which means that the upstairs rooms are partly in the roof and a gutter runs some distance below the window so when I look out I can see into the guttering below. There I saw a great tit and the origin of the tap was clear. There was nothing I could do. The guttering is too high for me to reach even with a step ladder. The bird moved a little and then stopped so I knew the poor little sausage had very likely broken its neck. But I checked a minute later and it was still. So I returned to my study and wept a bit for how unfair fate is, it looked like a young bird and I was angry for how things like that could happen and angry with myself for not having the blinds down and for having a house just at that point where it wanted to fly. I returned to the window later, wondering how I could give it a decent burial and there was no sign of it. I searched the garden to make sure... Nothing... so I assume that it had simply stunned itself, finally regained consciousness and flown off! In which case although fate had planted my house here it had given the bird a chalet bungalow with a slope from the window to slide down and a gutter to catch him/her. A fall from window height would have most certainly led to death. Anyway, the bird as they say had flown... And no this wasn't the image planned for 'Gone' but serendipity dictates it has to be here.
Cropped and converted to B&W in PictureProject (these two feathers were tiny... less than a centimetre.