Not that that stopped me for more than a couple of seconds. Here is the seagull:
It was clean and bright, with no smell, no other signs of deterioration. Nor of injury, although I didn't flip it over to be sure.
But it was so beautiful, even in death, that I had to zoom in for a close-up or two.
The underside of the wing, with raindrops.
And the beak, showing the red spot. Which has its own black spot. Interesting curves and angles. And a stylish nostril.
And the breast feathers, seen up close, were eye-blinding white, much too bright for the camera, brighter even than they seem when I see gulls in flight. Only the eye, that challenging, curious, proud seagull eye, was dulled and sad.
I keep wondering, now, what killed it? And left it high and dry at the edge of the park?