Clare saw a bird die this morning. The Chaffinch flew down from the top of the garage, after a freezing cold night. About a foot off the grass, it just fell out of the air. She picked it up and carried it into the house. Although still warm, it was quite dead.
Apparently it is too beautiful to bury, so it is currently resting in the wood pyre in the garden.
Birds spend the night in the open, and rely on their stored energy to keep them sufficiently warm. A cold snap like the present one kills many.
I have been instructed to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and lavishly spread birdseed on the back lawn.