In the same cursed stretch of road last week, I rode my bike past a crow.
A crow with a broken back or broken wing, or both - flopping around in a circle, trying to lift off in absolute vain. And as I rode past, staring in complete horror with an open mouth at this tortured creature I thought, it is too big for me to run over it and make a difference, and it is circling itself out of the way of oncoming traffic.
The sound of about twenty other crows, flying in from Hell (I assume) not to save their brother - but to put him out of his misery.
See what I'm saying about bicycling = connection to the neighborhood!? Shit's getting real, people.