She had been away from the nest for longer than she should have, bent on finding proper food after a week of virtually nothing, and had underestimated the amount of time it would take her to get back. On reaching the place where there had been a herd of animals once before, she found it deserted and flew on beyond it, half-mad with hunger and desperation. Still nothing, and when she had finally headed back to her chicks, a high wind had sprung up, forcing her to land and wait for it to die down. Night came and she slept, curled up in the meagre shelter she had found, and when morning came it was calm enough to fly. She turned for home with a feeling of cold apprehension, and when she finally reached the nest, at midday, she found only one chick waiting for her.The two dead chicks were not huddled as if they had died in their sleep. One lay on its side, its head thrown back, and the other was on its front, its little limbs curled in under its belly.The black chick appeared to be in relatively good health.
