Where Do Birds Die?

I’ve seen maybe six dead birds in my entire life and those seemed to have died from either a window or a cat. So where do they die? Do they go somewhere to do it? Is there a good resource for information about how animals die? Do rabbits dig a different hole? Fish relax and float downstream?

Well, I found a dead pigeon on my balconey once.

No cat or anything involved.


Welcome, Frank Farquar.

Ask, and ye shall recieve:

That, by the way, is one of the series of “The Straight Dope” columns that this board is based on.

Thanks for saving me the trouble of finding the cite, Troy. BTW, I’ve never understood this question, because I see dead birds quite a lot. Usually they aren’t there for very long. Perhaps it matters where you live and how many birds and scavengers are around.

Every time you walk by.

Oh, wait, it’s appear and when you are near.

I agree with Shoshana. This is the second time I’ve seen this particular question and it makes no sense to me as I’ve seen bird remains many, many times. Don’t these people walk through parks/under trees/near long grass regularly? That’s the only explanation I can think of.

They’re thinking of the ancient Etruscan legend of the pigeon’s graveyard, where thousands of birds migrate each year to die. When they get tired of living, they go to this secret location, known only to birds but believed to be on a small island, nest-ling in the Black[bird] Sea. The owls administer euthanisia, and the old birds die happily. Their bodies rot, leaving behind the valuable ivory in their beaks and legs, so that this site is often hunted by poachers who have become discontent with merely poaching eggs.

Myths tell of famous heroes who searched for this mythological site, including the famous Jason who took many, many yellow ships on this quest – you’ve probably heard of Jason and his golden fleet.

Leonard Cohen knows . . . .

In Vienna there’s ten pretty women
There’s shoulder where Death comes to cry
There’s a lobby with 900 windows
There’s a tree where the doves go to die
There’s a piece that’s been torn from the morning
and it hangs in the gallery of frost
Ay, ay, ay, ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaw.
-from “Take This Waltz”

Oh boy, now I’m one of ‘these people’ again.
Thanks Troy for the link. Next time I’m somewhere where ailing birds may have gone to escape preditors, I’ll have a look around.

Frank Farquar, welcome to SDMB!