Bird strike

When I hear the thump of a bird hitting a window or glass door - rare, but it happens here- I always immediately think of that opening line in the long poem at the heart of Vladimir Nabokov's novel Pale Fire ;  "I was the shadow of the waxwing slain / by the false azure of the window pane" . 

This one fortunately wasn't slain - it picked itself up and perched on a seat beside the glass panel it had struck  on the other side of which I was working .   

Thus I was able to take a couple of pictures before it flew off, dazed no doubt but still alive.