So I came home from my morning walk the other day to find a dead pigeon on the front steps* and the windows, steps, siding and the gutter splattered with blood, very fresh not-yet-congealed blood. I called to hubby through the window and he commented that he just heard quite a bit of scuffling happening on the rooftop but didn't think much of it as there are always crows and jays coming and going on the roof.
We could only surmise that a crow (the last suspect seen fleeing the area) and Freddie's parent had a territory dispute on the roof; the pigeon still unwilling to leave the last place it had seen its offspring**.  We had jokingly talked about how taking Freddie to the Wildlife Rescue Society would have repercussions that we didn't intend***, perhaps the parents would starve, unwilling to leave the area to find food for themselves etc... and lo, there it happened, the parent unwilling to back down from a crow****.

I did a few sketches of Freddie's parent under the watchful gaze of a crow sitting on the rooftop next door.

* What did the person delivering flyers think as he carefully placed my flyer between a pigeon and a puddle of warm blood?
** So how long is a pigeon's memory?
*** In retrospect, we didn't learn our lesson, we still would have taken Freddie to the animal hospital.
**** I still heart crows.