I died today. It’s strange to say that, but here I am—my voice the only echo from a life that slipped away too soon.
I was discovered by a kind, soft-hearted woman devoted to rescuing wildlife in need. I had been ill—so ill I could barely open my eyes. Weakness coursed through my feathers and bones, each breath a reminder of how close I was to giving up entirely.
She gently took me inside and cradled me close, pressing warmth against my small, trembling body. Her arms were a world of comfort I could almost taste, like safety itself. I blinked at her with what strength I had left, and in that moment, I wasn’t scared—but grateful. I looked into her eyes and breathed what felt like a thank-you—for kindness at the very brink.
But my strength was slipping. The sickness that had convulsed through me was relentless, and I was too weak to fight the last of it.
I had eaten a mouse—a poor creature poisoned in someone’s attempt to get rid of pests. That one little meal turned into my undoing. Poison seeped into my body and spread until it stole every spark of life from me.
So I closed my yellow-gold eyes for the final time, drifting away to whatever lies beyond.
This isn’t just my story—it’s a plea.
Please, I beg you: don’t use poison to kill mice, rats, or any small creatures. It kills more than the target. It kills silent gliders of the night, caring rescuers, and quiet beauty itself.
There are better ways: choose live traps. Catch, release, give life a chance to continue. Be the change that allows a songbird to sing, a fox to roam, an owl to hoot under a moonlit sky.
It takes only one decision to use a humane way. It takes only one person to notice. And sometimes… sometimes one story is enough to remind us that life, no matter how small, is precious. Share this story… because it matters.