One day last week we watched from the kitchen window as a male cardinal did a peculiar dance, we thought, in the grass.

Turns out it wasn’t a dance but an attack on another male cardinal.
There were red feathers flying, but the under dog got away.
It limped/hopped off to the protection of the bushes around the hot tub. . . .
we thought . . . to ‘lick it’s wounds’ and move on, out of the dominant male’s territory.

Today I discovered the skeletal remains. Apparently it didn’t fare as well as we had romanticized.

I didn’t think this was a good idea to post as the PaD.

So it’s memorial is here instead.