The young girl had found it on the front lawn, and placed it in a shoe box lined with clean rags. It was a young friar bird, or leatherhead, a large honeyeater. A cat had caught it and torn its back up badly. The bird was well on the way out by the time I got it.
It is currently dying from choloroform as I write. I'm helping it die faster. I hate this. I feel like a little bit of me dies every time I do it.